


Pressure

by ArchOfImagine, hufflecas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, Cheating, Established Relationship, Human AU, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 14:52:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2154684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchOfImagine/pseuds/ArchOfImagine, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hufflecas/pseuds/hufflecas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benny’s eyes are closed while he comes, and even after while he’s trying to catch his breath. When they finally blink back open, his blue eyes are staring directly at Dean.</p><p>Unfortunately, Dean is haunted by another pair of clear blue eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It seems like an obvious solution to his problem. And Dean knows as soon as he steps into the bar that he will always be the spitting image of his father. Running away from responsibility, straight into the open arms of Jack Daniels.  
  
He doesn’t know what else to do.  
  
“Well ain’t you a sight for sore eyes.”  
  
Like the familiar burn of Jack on his throat, hearing a deep bayou accent in his ear calms his nerves. Benny is familiar comfort; never complicated, always simply there.  
  
If he said he’d gone to that particular bar with innocent intentions, he would probably be lying. It’s Friday night; of course Benny is around.  
  
But he’s only there for a drink in the company of an old friend. Nothing else.  
  
Dean watches Benny sit on the stool beside him. Benny throws an arm around Dean’s shoulder and pulls him in for a half hug. He smells like Old Spice and the wood mill where he works. It makes Dean feel at ease as he takes another sip of whiskey.  
  
“How’s life, Benny?” It’s sad that they don’t keep in touch outside of that particular bar. They were together in some capacity, on and off for three years. Benny’s his friend, and he’s missed him.  
  
“Oh, you know.” Benny shrugs his broad shoulders and waves to the bartender, signaling for his regular drink. “Same shit, different day.”  
  
The relaxed tone in Benny’s voice reminds Dean of why he likes the older man.    
  
“What about you, Dean? Don’t see you ‘round this place much anymore.”  
  
Dean swallows back a particularly large mouthful of whiskey. “School was pretty nuts there for awhile.”  
  
“But not now?”  
  
“No it’s… eased off.” He looks into his drink before letting his gaze drift back up to Benny’s baby blues. It’s an old reflex, and it’s so, so easy to fall into.  
  
“Well, that’s good to hear.” Benny leans his shoulder into Dean’s then, and it’s an affectionate gesture, and a little playful.   
  
Dean slides his hand under the bar and gives Benny’s thigh a squeeze. Benny raises his eyebrows in question, and the hand moves further up as an answer. “You still got that place by the river?”  
  
\---  
  
Everything is a crash of limbs and lips as they fall through the door. Benny's had his hands all over Dean since they left the bar, and didn't hesitate at all when he slipped them into Dean's pocket so he could grab the keys to the Impala. "We've both been drinkin', darlin',“ he'd whispered, "but I far less than you." Any protest Dean could have made was cut off with a sloppy, wet kiss.  
  
Inside Benny's modest trailer by the water, Dean's back lands against the door as soon as it shuts. Kisses trail down from his mouth to his neck and of course Benny still knows the spot that makes his knees go weak.  
  
"Fuck," Dean gasps, shoving Benny's jacket off of his broad shoulders. He can feel hands moving under his own layers of shirts, warm and rough, calloused from a life of hard labor. The familiarity makes Dean's skin tingle as he pulls Benny even closer.  
  
Benny pulls back to strip off layers of Dean's clothes and gives him a heated smirk. "I intend to." He grips onto Dean's waist and pulls him away from the door and farther into the trailer.  
  
Dean isn't paying attention. All he can focus on is undoing the clasp of Benny's pants. He doesn't stop to worry about shirts or naked or location -- he's solely focused on having Benny's dick in his hand, hot and hard and just like he remembers.  
  
The backs of his thighs hit the kitchen table and Benny lets out something close to a growl as he lifts Dean up onto the surface. He leaves him like that, dressed only in his jeans and boots as Benny steps back and peels off his own clothes.  
  
Dean watches silently, licking his lips as each piece of skin is revealed. Benny is still tanned from long days in the sun and the right amount of muscle and mass -- just like Dean enjoys. He reaches out to touch slowly, and it's the calmest he's felt all night. The whiskey is getting to his head, because he wants to talk about how much he misses Benny, misses them, like this.  
  
He remains silent and hurriedly kicks off his boots while undoing his belt.   
  
Benny stands stoically, his hand reaching down to stroke his cock twice, before letting it go. He's obviously noticed Dean's hurried movements and the general feeling of pure need throughout the night. Benny is smart enough, and knows Dean well enough, to read between the lines. To see there is something being left unsaid.  
  
 He steps back briefly, going to a drawer to find what Dean hopes is lube and a condom. He's back in an instant and Dean inches to the edge of the tabletop, letting his legs wrap around Benny's waist and pull him close.  
  
 Kisses land on his neck as slick fingers slide over his entrance. In sex, Benny has always been softer than one would assume based on his tough guy exterior. In all reality he was cuddly like a teddy bear. Dean appreciates it to a point, but he doesn't need that now. He's stretched around two fingers before he's tired of waiting. "Just fuck me already," he grunts.  
  
 There is no response other than Benny shifting to cover his cock with the condom and more lube. He finds Dean's lips then, gripping Dean's thigh with his left hand as his right guides his cock slowly -- too damn slow.  
  
 Dean grips Benny's short hair with a desperate hand and pulls him close for another searing kiss. His body is adjusted enough around Benny's cock that he shifts, pressing closer and hoping the other man will get the picture and fucking move.  
  
 He's not disappointed. Benny nips at his bottom lip as he begins moving. Each thrust gets a little rougher, a little harder and hits just the right spot. His own cock is pressed between them, brushing tantalizingly over Benny's coarse body hair. He reaches his hand down between them and grasps himself, stroking in time with Benny's movements.  
  
 The sex is short and sweet and exactly what Dean needs. When he comes with Benny pressed deep inside of him, he gasps and bites his tongue to keep from screaming. Benny manages to thrust only a few times more before he’s losing it as well, and Dean watches his face in exhausted fascination.  
  
 Benny’s eyes are closed while he comes, and even after while he’s trying to catch his breath. When they finally blink back open, his blue eyes are staring directly at Dean.  
  
 Unfortunately, Dean is haunted by another pair of clear blue eyes.  
  
\---  
  
After cleaning themselves up, Benny offers Dean a beer from his fridge. Dean stares at it for a moment, wearing only his jeans and thinking that he really should go home. He’s still too buzzed to drive, though, and if he’s going to hang out for the evening he might as well enjoy himself. He accepts the beer, pops the top off, and takes a long swig.  
  
 They collapse on the couch and Benny turns on Sportscenter before throwing his arm around Dean again and pulling him close. Dean prays for silence and the opportunity to brood in his mind over his beer.  
  
 Benny doesn’t let it happen. “You gonna tell me why you needed this so bad?”  
  
 His answer closes the topic as quickly as it started. “No.”  
  
 Benny knows him well enough to accept his answer and not push for more.  
  
 The beer hits Dean harder than he would have thought because the next time he looks at the window the sky is much much lighter than he swore it just was and Benny’s snoring on his shoulder. Dean carefully snakes out from under Benny’s heavy arm and collects his things. He registers somewhere in the back of his mind that it should be a point of pride how far and wide his clothes are scattered around the room, but he just can’t bring himself to care. All he cares about is that Benny is still snoring when he slips out the front door.  
  
 ---  
  
 Dean’s apartment is quiet when he unlocks the door and steps in, warily. No one’s home. Dean can’t decide if he’s hungover or still partially drunk or some horrible combination of both. All he knows is that he wants to be flat in his bed five minutes ago. Out of habit he checks the fridge door for notes and yep, that one wasn’t there when he left. He grabs the offensively pink square of paper and reads it as he kicks his boots off, one in the kitchen and one in the hallway.  
  
 “Well, that’s typical,” he mutters to himself, and gives the note no more thought. It flutters to the floor as he collapses face-first into the partially made bed.  
  
 _Dean--_  
  
 _Sorry I won’t be home for dinner. I’ve got to study for two midterms and a lab before Monday. Another all-nighter at the library. Don’t wait up. Lasagna in fridge._  
  
 _Love you,_  
 _XOXO_  
 _Cas_  
  
   
  
 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're shooting for this being an 'update on Sunday' thing. Two weeks in a row, ftw! - B

The mood at breakfast is tense, but that’s nothing new. It’s midterm season and that means Castiel is sleeping far fewer hours than he’s studying. Dean eyes his bacon like it’s the most interesting food item he’s ever held; he’ll stare at anything as long as he can continue to avoid Cas’ gaze.   
  
He took thirty minutes in the shower and he still smells Benny on his skin. Cas will know, he thinks. Cas will know that Old Spice isn’t Dean’s normal go-to deodorant.   
  
Castiel is too preoccupied with his Biology assignment to notice anything at first. He finally closes the textbook after fifteen minutes, though, and looks up at Dean. Dean immediately fidgets and pushes his chunky black glasses up his nose. ‘ _Slept with someone else_ ,’ must be flashing over his head.  
  
Cas doesn’t mention Old Spice or cheating. He just smiles softly and takes a bite of oatmeal before asking, “Are you prepared for your Lit 301 midterm?”  
  
And that’s almost worse than if he had flown into a jealous rage. Dean sighs internally at the very mention of his English Literature class. He doesn’t let it show for Cas to see, though. Instead, he pastes on a smile and tries not to look guilty.   
  
“I feel like I am, yes.” The literature class was his least favorite, but he had been doomed from the start with the term’s class schedule. Anthropology, History of Northern Africa, First Year Chemistry. It’s all a bunch of stuff that he doesn’t care to learn.  
  
Things that Cas is interested in.  
  
It’s not like he didn’t try. Hell, he’s been trying this whole college thing for more than two years. It just… stopped working. So for the past two weeks he’s been sitting on textbooks he could sell for money he really needs-- if only he didn’t need them more to let his boyfriend think he’s still a college student.  
  
“Listen,” Cas says, interrupting Dean’s thoughts. “I know I’ve been really busy lately, and I’m sorry. I feel like we haven’t spent any quality time together in ages. So I’m thinking that we should go somewhere special for Spring Break.” When Dean’s eyebrows raise and he tries to interject, Cas holds up his hand. “I don’t mean Miami or some stupid party city like all the other college kids. I just mean quiet, secluded… just you and me and a bed.”  
  
Dean panics. He just started pulling in shifts at the garage, and now he’s going to have to beg a week off? Shit. He didn’t exactly think through this whole dropping out of school thing very well, did he?  
  
“Yeah,” Dean says, and he thinks he’s managing a smile. “That sounds nice. Whatever you want.”  
  
“No, Dean.” Castiel puts down his spoon and looks at Dean. “I want this to be what we want.” He lays a hand on Dean’s. “I know I haven’t been around much, but I promise it’s not going to last forever.”  
  
Dean smiles, and lets himself be kissed before Castiel returns to his oatmeal. He sits through less than four minutes of Cas talking about which of his family’s cabins they can stay in over the break before a loud incessant clock bell starts to ring across the table.  
  
He immediately recognizes the annoying sound as the damn reminder app on Cas’ phone. “You’ve got class on a Saturday?” Dean thought he knew Cas’ timetable well.  
  
“No, I’ve scheduled in another block of studying for myself. If I leave now I can get in forty-five minutes at the library before I have to meet some people for that group project.”  
  
“That’s great,” Dean says, and he doesn’t know if he’s grateful or not that Cas is already too far away from the kitchen to hear the resignation in his voice.  
  
  
\---  
  
  
When Dean and Castiel first met, sparks flew. Not that Dean did anything about it initially, though. He was too worried about passing English 102. But there was no mistaking the intention behind the blue eyes that stared at him, or the hand that lingered just a little too long passing over a book or a pen. So when Castiel was the last available partner for the last assignment of the term Dean was both terrified and couldn’t believe his luck.  
  
They were supposed to take a piece of classic literature, rework it into modern English, and then critically examine the differences between the original and remade version. Dean thought it was kind of interesting, but Castiel was having none of it.  
  
“I’m applying for pre-med at the end of the year,” Castiel said, shooting a hateful glare at the small mountain of loose paper scattered in front of them. That particular November afternoon they had already spent the majority of the day camped out at one of those group study tables on the main floor of the library. Each student milling about looked more bored and exhausted than the last. “I speak English. Why do I need to know anything else about it?”  
  
“I dunno, man.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck. He had to admit, he kind of liked to see the prim and proper Castiel lose it over a trumped-up first year English essay. “I don’t even know what I’m doing and I have to take it. It’s like, the one English class everyone has to take. Doesn’t matter what program you’re doing.” He leaned back in his seat, stretching his arms back above his head. They had been at this for only a few hours, but it felt like days. “I guess they want to be sure you really speak English before they let you do anything else.”  
  
“That sounds very refreshing.” Castiel put down his pen to rub his fingers over his eyes.  
  
“What does?”  
  
“Not knowing what you’re doing. I would kill to have that sort of freedom.”  
  
“Hey, sometimes you gotta take your freedom where you can.” He held Castiel’s gaze, longer than necessary to convey a casual point of a casual conversation.  
  
“And where would you suggest we take it?”  
  
Dean couldn’t tell if he were playing along or asking genuinely. “Well for one, I gotta get out of here. I’ve been staring at the same damn _stanza_ for three goddamn hours and I can’t take it anymore.”  
  
“I thought you liked this class.”  
  
“I do. It’s still stuffy as hell in here. C’mon, grab your stuff.”  
  
Castiel grinned like the proverbial fox in the henhouse and followed Dean’s own rushed example. Papers still poking out of his book bag, Castiel headed towards the front door.  
  
“Woah, woah, where ya going?”  
  
“I thought… aren’t we taking a study break?”  
  
“We are indeed.” Dean sidled up beside Castiel and slung an arm over his shoulder. “But it’s wet and cold and gross out there. Follow me.” Dean licked his lips and made a beeline for the stairs. Instead of heading straight up to the second floor, he made for the stairs on the right, for the washrooms and archives. Past the bathrooms he turned down the stairs again: Basement 2.   
  
The stacks.  
  
Castiel raised his eyebrows as Dean pushed open the door.  
  
“What?” Dean asked in mock defense. “You can’t tell me it doesn’t smell as weird down here. And you get in there and tell me how many people you see.”  
  
As Dean lead the way down the paths of books and aisles, Castiel followed obediently. When they finally stopped, they were in a secluded corner, out of sight from the entrance. Dean dropped his bag to the floor before shoving Castiel up against a shelf.   
  
The other man let out a squeak, but Dean cut it off with a forceful kiss to his lips. Cas’ bag hit the floor as well and his arms wrapped around Dean’s neck without much effort or thought at all. Dean pressed closer, letting Cas feel the pent up desire brewing through his body and going south in a rush.  
  
The kisses grew frantic and Dean gasped, rubbing his palm over Castiel’s hard cock through the slacks he wore. Lips found Cas’ ear and he whispered in a deep, needy voice, “I’m going to suck your cock now. If you want to protest, it better happen soon.”  
  
Castiel shook his head and gave a muffled noise, not daring to chance something he wanted so badly.   
  
Kneeling down before him, Dean looked up through his glasses and smirked as he slowly began undoing Castiel’s pants. “You’re clean, right?” An enthusiastic nod came in reply and Dean continued. When his hand brushed ever so gently along Cas’ cock, his blue eyes would flutter shut immediately before popping back open when the touch disappeared.  
  
Teasing was fun, but Dean wanted more just as badly, so he let the pants drop to the ground along with Cas’ underwear, and shoved his shirt up with one hand before leaning forward and just… tasting. He wrapped his lips around warm flesh and slowly, inch by inch, took what he could into his mouth. Cas was making soft gasping noises and clenching desperately at one of the bookshelves beside him. His knuckles were white, his eyes were closed, and Dean pulled back to the tip of his cock just so he could view the full expanse of needy Castiel.  
  
Despite his own need pressing against jeans that were way too tight at the moment, Dean took his time and made slow movements. A blur of minutes had passed when he heard the distinct sound of the basement door opening and… footsteps.  
  
He kept his mouth wrapped around Castiel’s cock, knowing that if he pulled away and rushed to fix clothing and look presentable the noise would give their position away. So he stayed still, looking up to watch the desperate panic flushing over Cas’ face as the footsteps moved even closer.   
  
Two aisles away, they finally stopped. Dean heard the shuffling of papers and books and suddenly smirked when he realized the person probably wouldn’t be moving any closer. He began slowly sucking and licking at the cock in his mouth, careful to move without a sound.   
  
A desperate hand moved to his head and clutched at his hair. Obviously Castiel was panicked and wanted him to stop, but Dean had gone too far at that point. He continued to move, and it didn’t take long before the hand in his hair began to guide and nudge the movements quicker.  
  
The footsteps began retreating away from them. As soon as the basement door opened and closed back behind the intruder Cas bit his bottom lip and let out a muffled cry as he came. Dean swallowed immediately and without hesitation, milking Cas’ cock dry before pulling away and letting his eyes drift slowly up his body. Castiel was hot when he came; he looked so sated and pleased. It reminded Dean that own cock was begging for attention.  
  
Castiel sagged against the wall, catching his breath as he pulled his slacks back up. Dean leaned into him, breathing hot against Cas’ neck. Generally Dean would have the capacity for patience, but at that moment, all he could think about was taking care of the raging hard-on in his pants.  
  
He kissed along Castiel’s neck as he undid his pants and shoved them out of the way. When his cock was finally free, he bit back his own moan and wrapped his hand around himself - enjoying the immediate pleasure that followed.  
  
He would have been happy to get himself off in his own hand, sloppy-kissing under Cas’ jaw and rutting against his thigh, but Castiel cut him off mid-stroke.  
  
“Stop that,” he said, punctuating his request with a kiss. “I may be new to this, but I can reciprocate. I want to.”  
  
Dean stepped back, a shiver running down his spine. “You don’t have to--”  
  
“I know.”  
  
The resolution in Castiel’s voice sent something hot thrumming through Dean’s gut. Now he was the one struck speechless. With his hands on Dean’s shoulders Castiel gently guided him up against the wall and sank to his knees.  
  
Dean could have laughed at the look of pure concentration on Castiel’s face as he settled his hands on Dean’s hips, apparently planning his strategy. It was not unlike how he looked when he was studying and it was quite endearing.  
  
Dean’s thoughts of adorable furrowed brows were cut short by a hot, wet mouth around the tip of his dick. Castiel’s movements were tentative. It was fairly obvious he had never done this before but Dean wasn’t going to complain.   
  
Cas’ tongue swept down the underside of Dean’s shaft as he moved to take more of him in his mouth. Dean tried not to feel a spot of pride when Castiel fought back a small gag. He silently resolved to keep his hips as still as possible, a resolve that was tested when Cas began mercilessly moving his mouth up and down Dean’s cock.  
  
Dean reached down to run his hand through Castiel’s hair in what he hoped was an encouraging gesture. “Christ, Cas,” he gasped and he _felt_ Castiel smile around his cock before he began to speed up his pace. He hardly felt his orgasm build up before he was coming with almost no warning. _He_ liked to swallow but he knew it wasn’t everyone’s bag. “Fuck Cas, I’m--” and his left arm shot out reflexively, looking for something to hang on to, anything steady. Here, however, there was no bedsheet to crumple in his fist, no headboard to hang onto, only books. He reached behind a row of short hardcovers, clutching at the shelf behind them. As his hips jerked forward so did his arm, sending a veritable cascade of the printed word sprawling in front of him-- and bouncing off Cas’ shoulders.  
  
“Shit! Cas, I’m sorry,” he said.  
  
Castiel, who still had his mouth full of dick at the moment of literary attack, jerked back in surprise. But Dean wasn’t entirely finished coming and thus the distracted Castiel ended up with a face full of spunk.  
  
Dean tried not to laugh. And failed. “Fuck, I think you got some in your hair,” he said, trying to wipe up the offensive smear. “Are you okay?”  
  
“Yes, I’m fine.” Castiel looked shy his face flushed, although he was smiling, as he wiped yet another spot of Dean’s come from the side of his nose.  
  
“I promise blowjobs aren’t usually like that. The books falling on your head part, anyway. C’mere, we gotta make you presentable.” Dean tucked himself back in his pants as Castiel stood. He pulled Castiel in by the lapels of his shirt and tenderly kissed away all other sticky white spots on his face.  
  
When Cas broke the kiss off, he frowned at Dean, his lack of experience fueling his curiosity. “How can you like that taste?”  
  
Dean shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “You just kind of get used to it.”  
  
Castiel gave a soft nod, waiting a moment before he kissed Dean again. There was a hint of the flavor there on Dean’s tongue, and he couldn’t say he was a fan of it, but he knew Dean had a point. He pulled back to whisper against Dean’s lips, “I guess I’ll have to practice, then.”  
  
“I guess I’ll have to teach you.”  
  
  
\---  
  
  
When Dean steps into the bathroom to brush his teeth, twenty minutes after Cas made a quick retreat out of the apartment to study, he can smell the soft scent of Cas’ aftershave and it hits him hard. The smell is not like the Old Spice Benny uses; it’s softer and calming. It reminds Dean of their first days together. Back before Cas had the responsibility of pre-med on his agenda, and before Dean had lost… whatever it was that he had.  
  
Days would never be that simple again, and that was a tough pill to swallow.


	3. Chapter 3

Not going to school is exhausting.

Dean starts his shifts at the garage before he would have class most days, but not early enough that he can slip out unnoticed. Because of course Castiel gets up at the hour of disgustingly early o’clock and heads to the library to study at the exact same time that Dean should be heading in the opposite direction to make it to his job that his boyfriend doesn’t know he has. If he waited until Castiel left he’d be late for sure, and his boss would have his balls. Not to mention that he’s taken to carrying his backpack around, full of textbooks that he could really use the money they’re worth even second-hand, to keep up the charade. So Dean has two choices: he can get up twenty minutes before he really needs to and leave before Castiel wakes up, or he can walk Cas to the library, drop him off with a kiss, and then loop back around the entire campus on foot, sprinting, and praying, that he catch his bus in time.

Which is, of course, what’s happened today.

Dean’s looking at his watch for the fourth time in half as many minutes when he realises that Cas is talking to him.

“Dean. Are you even listening to me?”

“Yeah. Of course.” He narrows his eyes in concentration. “What were you saying?”

Castiel sighs, but it’s chased by a smile. “I was saying that I think you’re working yourself too thin.”

“Working?” Panic edges itself into Dean’s voice. Does Cas know he’s working?

“Studying,” Castiel clarifies. “I was telling Michael the kind of hours you’ve been keeping lately and he didn’t even believe me. It’s Thursday and this is the first day all week that you haven’t left before me.” He stops then, and takes both of Dean’s hands in his own. “Dean. I love that you’re finally taking school seriously but you have to take care of yourself as well. I know you’re not sleeping. Don’t forget I’m the one you’re tossing and turning next to all night.”

Dean’s stomach does exactly one somersault before he wills it into behaving. “Shit Cas, I’m sorry. It’s just… midterms, you know?”

“Of course I know. Remember I told you I’d take you somewhere nice for the break? I’m going to ask Michael later today if we can stay at his cabin.”

“The one in that little timeshare village thing? Won’t there be families everywhere? It’s not exactly peaceful, but…”

“No, not that cabin. His other one. Up at the lake. Very secluded.”

“That sounds nice.” Dean still has no idea how he’ll get the time off work. Maybe it’s not too much to ask so soon…

Cas gives him a quick peck on the lips. “Come on. I’m buying you a latté before class. To hell with the library today.”

_I can’t, I need to leave for work five minutes ago._ “Ah, I’d love to Cas, but I got that midterm coming up…”

“So you lied to me?”

Something slick and wet and heavy turns itself over in his gut. He prays the feeling doesn’t make it to his face. “What?”

“About being prepared for your English midterm.”

“No, I mean. Yeah. Shit. I’m sorry, Cas.” Dean is painfully aware of the time but he looks at his watch again to show it. “And I’m sorry I can’t have coffee with you, I actually told Charlie I’d buy her one this morning in exchange for her saving my sorry ass and giving me her notes. So I gotta go.”

“Alright then. Let me buy you a coffee later?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Say hi to Charlie for me. I love you.”

“Love you too.” He plants a kiss on Cas’ cheek and turns on his heels, eager to be able to book it across campus. Maybe he’ll only be five minutes late.

Dean shoves his hands in his pockets and doesn’t look back.

\---

He offers to stay late an extra half-hour in order to make up for being late that morning. Anything to stay in his boss’s good thoughts. He also gets the words in his throat to ask for time off --- only to become a little chicken shit and scurry away before he could ask.

When he finally arrives home that evening, he can barely make his feet carry him up the stairs to their apartment. He’s exhausted and just wants to fall into bed. But Cas is there, setting out dinner plates.

“What’s the occasion?” he mumbles around a yawn as he drops his bag into its normal spot by the door. (Like always, the fear of Cas looking inside and seeing a surplus of car manuals around his mostly-pristine textbooks makes his stomach do a flip-flop but he ignores it.)

Cas smiles as he moves over to meet Dean at the edge of their small kitchen and give him a kiss. “I got two of my tests back -- a 92 and a 94! Figured that warranted some celebration.”

Of course Cas got A’s on his tests. He always does. The fact that it still surprises him is the part that Dean can’t understand. Castiel is smart, and he should be able to believe in himself, but he still can’t.

“So, how are we celebrating?” _Please say a movie and then bed, please say a movie and then bed._

“Well, I got takeout from that Thai place we like--”

_Damn,_ Dean thinks, and, _The Thai place_ you _like._

“--And then,” Castiel moves in close to Dean, wrapping his arms around his waist, “maybe we can make it an early night? I know you’ve had a long day.”

_Thank Christ. Well, one out of two ain’t too bad…_

Dinner is more bearable than Dean had been expecting. Cas mostly talks the whole time about a new assignment for class and Dean is just glad the focus of the conversation stays off him. He’s never much liked Thai food, and there’s this spicy and sour soup that he can hardly swallow two mouthfuls of. However, one of the dishes that Cas ordered is noodles mixed with egg and bean sprouts and shredded pork and it’s pretty good. It’s actually damn good. Dean leaves Castiel to the weird soup, who doesn’t seem to mind his portion of noodles has suddenly vanished.

Cas insists on clearing their plates, and passes Dean a beer from the fridge. “Hold on, I’ll get you a glass,” he scolds lightly when Dean starts to drink straight from the bottle.

Dean sighs but lets Castiel pour his beer into the glass anyway. He watches Cas move about the kitchen, silently nursing his beer. Dean studies everything about the man he fell in love with: the way his hair sticks up at odd angles although he likely hasn’t laid down or even touched his hair all day. The way he makes extra trips back and forth across the small kitchen because he can’t seem to remember to carry more than one item at a time. The way he looks at Dean over his shoulder as he dries the last of the dishes.

It’s a look that used to make Dean feel elated. It still does, but it somehow makes him just a little miserable, too.

He resolves to put it all past him. All this shit that’s clogging up his brain. What happened with Benny is in the past, it’s gone. However Dean’s feeling, he can get over it. He’s just tired and stressed out from working so much… which he’ll tell Cas about when he’s ready.

Dean drains the last of his beer and stands up to put the empty glass in the sink but Castiel intercepts and takes it from him.

“I’ll take this. I’ll meet you in bed,” he says, and kisses Dean softly on the lips.

Dean kisses him back and has to consciously not shed all of his clothing along the path to the bedroom. Instead he waits until he’s actually in their room to disrobe, although he’s bad and lets his clothes drop to the floor where he stands. The next thing to drop is himself, straight onto the bed. He must drift off because the next thing he’s aware of is Castiel sliding in next to him, his arms wrapping around Dean’s waist.

Dean turns around and buries his face under Cas’ chin. “Thanks for dinner,” he mumbles, and everything is good again. Cas smells like Cas. He smells… right. Dean lets his hands snake up under Cas’ t-shirt and over his smooth, hot, skin.

“You’re very welcome,” Castiel replies, and strokes Dean’s back in kind. “How tired did you say you were, again?”

“Pretty goddamn tired… but you smell really good.” He moves his hands lower, under the waistband of Castiel’s sweats, and gives his ass a good double-handed squeeze.

“I hate that I haven’t seen you very much lately,” Cas says into Dean’s neck. He kisses him there, then kisses up to the back of Dean’s ear. And that’s the spot.

The sensation goes straight to Dean’s dick and he’s suddenly less tired than he’s felt all day. “You’re seeing me now,” he says, and guides Castiel’s hand down. _This is good,_ he thinks, _One good fuck and I’ll sleep like the dead._ His hands still on Cas’ ass, he pulls the other man against him and he can feel Cas’ dick start to get hard next to his own.

Dean’s still only half-hard but Castiel’s hand feels warm and strong around him. As Castiel strokes him Dean relaxes, and buries his face into the crook of Cas’ neck. It’s a few minutes later when Dean hasn’t gotten much harder and Castiel disentangles himself from Dean’s arms and works his way down.

“Ah, you don’t have to--” Dean starts.

“No, let me. Let me take care of you.”

Dean sighs as he relaxes back into the bed, Castiel gripping his cock at the base as he starts to lick stripes up and down the shaft. When Castiel takes him fully into his mouth the warmth is more of a comfort than a turn on.

Castiel bobs his head up and down in earnest, and tries that twisting trick with his hand. After about ten minutes Dean’s not having a bad time, but he knows it’s not going anywhere.

“Cas,” he says, trying to get the other man’s attention. “Hey, Cas.” He touches the side of Castiel’s head to get him to look up. “That’s… that’s really nice but I don’t think anything’s happening tonight.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Fuck, you don’t have to apologize, Cas, it’s--” Dean casts around for words that don’t sound so much like excuses and finds none. “I just really am tired, okay?”

“I know.” He crawls up to Dean’s side before covering them both with the blanket again. “Just a few more weeks, then I can get you all to myself.”

“Did you arrange the cabin, then? It’s all set to go?”

“It’s all set.” Castiel grins as he settles under Dean’s shoulder.

“Your brother doesn’t mind that the two of us are basically going to be using it as crazy-sex-central for a week?” To say that Michael had never approved of Dean, he felt, would be a gross understatement.

“Hmm. Well…”

“Well, what?”

“I just asked him if I could spend spring break there, to relax…” He trails off.

“You didn’t tell him I was gonna be there, did you?” It’s not really a question.

“Dean, you know as well as I that that would just complicate matters--”

“So it’s just easier to sneak me around like a dirty secret? We’ve been together for a fucking year, Cas.”

“I’m sorry, Dean. It’s just… it’s none of his business, really.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Dean lifts his arm from around Castiel’s shoulders and turns away, settling on his side. “Can you get the light?”

“Yeah,” comes the response, before the lamp on Castiel’s side of the bed clicks off.

Dean can feel Cas’ weight shift in the bed as he settles carefully, so that they’re not actually touching.

“Are you mad?”

“No,” Dean says, “just really tired.”


	4. Chapter 4

_January, one year previous_

\---

Twenty-one years was a milestone, a moment to truly get excited about. And for most of the week before his birthday Dean was, indeed, very excited. How could he not be, with Cas happily planning _‘the best night of your life!’_

As luck would have it, his birthday fell on a Saturday that year, allowing them even more time to party, since they wouldn’t have anywhere to be the next day. Dean’s nerves had been vibrating beneath his skin the whole week. Late on Friday afternoon he showed up at Cas’ dorm with his backpack of clothes and a huge dopey grin on his face. A weekend of cuddling and fooling around his with boyfriend was about the best birthday present he could ask for. Anything else would just be a cherry on top.

Since Castiel was still in class for another hour, Dean busied himself with homework from his ECON class, seating himself at the meticulously organised desk. Thirty minutes in, there was a knock at the door. He glanced around the dorm room in confusion. All of Cas’ friends would know that he was in class - because class was always important and he never missed a moment. No one that Dean knew would go searching for him there, without calling or texting first.

He set his homework aside and moved across the room to the door. A second knock sounded right as he grasped the handle to open it. On the other side of the door stood a tall, dark-haired man. He was wearing a blue button-down shirt with a suit jacket. His slacks were pristine, and there wasn’t a hair out of place. Dean immediately tried to place the face amongst the school’s teaching staff. Why would a professor be showing up at Cas’ dorm room on a Friday afternoon?

Steely eyes took in Dean from head to toe without a word. A tingling feeling of _notgoodenough_ creeped up his spine as Dean stood there in torn jeans and a t-shirt from a Zeppelin show his dad went to once. He straightened under the scrutiny because it was Cas’ room and Cas was expecting him and he wouldn’t feel demeaned by some fucker that hadn’t even spoken yet. “Can I _help_ you?”

A perfectly groomed eyebrow arched before Dean was brushed aside and suddenly the guy was _in_ Cas’ space. _What. The. Fuck._

“Where is Castiel?” The man’s voice was equal parts demanding and annoyed. He moved around the room, touching things like he owned them. Dean couldn’t help but catch the sneer the man made when he saw Dean’s dirty old bag on the floor.

Somehow a stranger was making him feel all sorts of self-conscious. “He has class until six.” Dean watched as the man took a seat in Cas’ computer chair. “Hey, you can’t just come in here and---”

“Stop being a petulant child. I pay for everything in this room except you.” The older man’s eyes narrowed as he examined Dean once more. “Maybe I should reevaluate that. I’m confident that I can find a more suitable match for my brother.”

_Brother._ Family had been a topic he and Cas had broached on more than one occasion. It didn’t take much effort to put together the fact that this brother was obviously Michael, head of the Novak family, thanks to an absent father. The man who demanded perfection from Castiel and already had his future set in stone.

No wonder he kept looking at Dean like Dean was nothing more than shit on the bottom of his shoe. Suddenly, Dean had no idea what to do. Cas would be home soon, but definitely not soon enough, which gave him two options: sit around and make awkward conversation with Michael, or flee and text Cas later.

“What are you studying?” Michael demanded. His body had turned away from Dean as he examined the items on Castiel’s desk. Though Cas kept his whole room immaculately clean, Dean had the feeling that Michael still didn’t approve.

Which meant he definitely wasn’t going to approve of Dean’s answer, no matter what it was. “Mechanical engineering,” he finally offered. He hoped his words didn’t tremble too much around the lie. The truth was he had no idea what his major would be. Mechanical engineering was a pipe dream that he had stuffed into his back pocket - hoping that one day he might wake up smart enough to achieve it.

Michael sneered a little and picked up a framed picture of Dean and Cas. It was a candid shot, from the end of the previous semester, that one of their friends had taken. Cas loved it. Had told Dean over and over how much he enjoyed looking up from his books and always seeing Dean’s smile and twinkling green eyes.

Dean clenched his hands into a fist to keep from yanking the precious moment out of Michael’s hands. He looked away, realizing that he was still standing awkwardly in the middle of Cas’ room. Still fighting an unwavering urge to grab his bag and flee.

“So.” Michael placed the frame back on the desk, face down, and turned to face Dean. “How much?”

He bristled at the words. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t be an idiot. How much for you to step out of Castiel’s life and leave him in peace?”

Panic and anger simultaneously rippled up his spine. He was going to kill Castiel’s brother, right there in his dorm room. Happy fucking Birthday. “You can’t fucking _buy_ me.”

Michael, the bastard, was completely unphased by Dean’s anger. “Three thousand dollars.” Dean glared, but Michael kept on. “ _Four?_ ”

What Michael considered petty change would go a long way towards paying off Dean’s college bills. But he refused to be bribed. He wouldn’t give up a good thing with Cas just because Michael didn’t like the dirt on Dean’s shoes. “With all due respect, Michael, fuck you.”

Finally he showed a reaction, standing up in a rush and moving into Dean’s personal space in a heartbeat. “You’re fooling yourself if you think this is anything more than a fling. Castiel is destined for great things, and I won’t allow a white trash greasemonkey like you to stand in his way.” Michael stared down Dean for a few more intense moments, before bumping his shoulder as he walked past to the door. “Tell my brother I expect him home tomorrow for family dinner.”

Dean stood, speechless and still buzzing with anger, as Michael left. It was only after the door shut that Michael’s words sank in. _Tomorrow. Family dinner._

He turned and quickly shoved his things back into his bag. It was pointless to stay. If Cas was obligated to go up to his family’s home for the weekend it meant no big birthday celebration. If Cas missed the dinner to be with Dean it would only piss Michael off more. The last thing he wanted was to cause problems with someone’s family, but...

He had his bag thrown over his shoulder and was moving to leave, when the door opened. Cas stepped inside, looking exhausted from his class but smiled immediately upon seeing Dean.

“Hey!” He shoved the door shut behind him and dropped his books on the bed. He was just about to kiss Dean in greeting, when he noticed the unease. “What’s wrong?” Before Dean could make up a lie, a frown appeared on Cas’ face. “You met Michael, didn’t you? I saw him in the hallway.”

Dean shrugged, nervously rubbing the strap of his bag that he held. “No offense, but your brother is kind of an asshole.”

“No offense taken.”

“Fuck, what’s his problem with me, anyway?” Dean rubbed his hand over his face. “Is it because I’m a dude?”

“I highly doubt it.” Castiel placed his hands on Dean’s hips. “Our sister is… quite homosexual.”

Dean laughed. “As opposed to only a little homosexual? Like you?”

“I suppose so. But I’m sorry you had to meet him. Especially like that. I’m also sorry that he is going to ruin tomorrow night’s plans.” Reaching out, Cas grabbed the bag and pulled it from Dean’s grasp. He placed it on the chair Michael had occupied, and returned his focus to Dean. “But, if you think for a minute that I’m letting you leave, you’re crazy.” He brushed a soft touch along Dean’s arm before reaching up to touch his cheek. When their gazes connected, Cas smiled. “We’ve got all night and all morning tomorrow. And I fully intend on giving you twenty-one spankings in that amount of time.”

“Oh really?” Dean raised an eyebrow. “You think you can hold me down that long?”

“I know I can.” Castiel punctuated his words with a growl as he all but leaped onto Dean, knocking him back onto the bed. Straddling his hips, Castiel began to cover Dean’s face with kisses. When Dean tried to fight back, a grin on his face, Castiel shifted his weight so he could hold each of Dean’s wrists under his hands against the pillow. Castiel stopped his onslaught only long enough to nip under Dean’s ear and whisper, “Is this okay?”

Dean bucked his hips up sharply enough to bump his burgeoning erection against Cas’ ass. “What do you think?”

“I think there’s a certain almost-birthday-boy who’s wearing too much clothing.”

“Can’t say I disagree with you there.”

Castiel released Dean’s wrists and slid his hands down Dean’s arms and chest, then back up his stomach under his shirt. He let Dean sit up so he could strip him of his layers in one go. He leaned down to kiss Dean’s chest, taking a nipple between his teeth. Dean’s breath hitched. His hands free, he raked his fingernails up Castiel’s back under his own shirt, hopefully giving him the idea that it should be removed as well.

Pants and socks soon followed the shirts onto the floor, until the two of them were writhing on top of the blankets in nothing but their heavily tented shorts. Cas took a hold of Dean through his boxers and Dean had to bite back a moan. They’d already pissed off Castiel’s dorm neighbours… more than a few times. Dean knew how to behave. Sort of.

“Have you eaten?” Cas said, lifting his face to meet Dean’s.

“What? Cas, I’m not really thinking about--” he began, but his sentence was cut off by genuine concern coming from the clear blue eyes currently leveled at him. Dean’s voice softened. “I’m fine, Cas. We can get something after.”

“Good,” came the reply. “Because I want to take care of you right now.” He laid a kiss to Dean’s lips and pressed gently against his chest so he sank back onto the bed. “Just relax.”

Dean let his head roll back. The pillow was awfully soft. And he could use all the TLC Cas could offer after the run-in with Cas’ brother he’d just had.

Any non-sexy thoughts were immediately derailed by Castiel breathing hot and wet against the erection in Dean’s underwear. He relented long enough to shoot Dean a playful glance and hook his fingers around the shorts’ elastic. Dean groaned as Cas dipped his head not to Dean’s cock, but to the sensitive skin on the inside of his body. Dean writhed as Cas sucked a kiss in there, slowly licking and nipping up to the base of his cock. He planted a kiss there, then dragged the flat of his tongue up Dean’s length, stopping to sweep over the leaking head.

Suddenly the sensation was gone. Dean looked up to see Cas fishing through the bedside table drawer. Lube in hand he returned to his ministrations, settling between Dean’s thighs as he gently spread them apart with both hands. He returned his mouth to Dean’s cock, licking up the length once before sinking down to take Dean entirely into his mouth. Dean felt the heat hit him through his entire body, and then it was gone. Cas rose up again, but began working Dean’s now spit-slick cock up and down with his hand.

“Did you shower today?”

Cas’ low, gravelly voice didn’t so much take Dean out of his reverie as plunge him deeper into it. “Uh, yeah,” he gasped out in between slides of Cas’ hand over his cock, “Just before I got here.”

“Good.” He kissed Dean’s balls, taking one, then the other, in turn into his mouth.

“Why d’you as--”

Dean was cut off as Castiel’s tongue slipped lower, between his ass cheeks. Castiel pushed his tongue against the rim of his opening. The contact sent a shiver up Dean’s spine. He made a surprised noise that may or may not have been intended as an actual word.

Castiel paused just long enough to look up and say, “Happy Birthday, Dean,” before resuming taking Dean apart, one lick at a time. He pushed his tongue inside Dean, gently, alternating between actually penetrating him and caressing his skin with soft, wet kisses. 

By the time Castiel withdrew his mouth and slipped one lube-slicked finger inside of him, Dean’s legs were shaking. Castiel used his other hand to smooth up and down along Dean’s sweat-covered thigh as he slowly pushed his finger in past each knuckle. Searching inside he brushed across Dean’s prostate once, grinning when the action obviously caught his boyfriend by surprise.

When he had two fingers working in and out of Dean easily, he took Dean’s cock in his free hand, sliding his fist up and down the length, swiping his thumb over the head.

“Ugh, Cas,” Dean gasped.

“Is that good, baby?”

“Yeah,” he breathed needily. “More.” 

Castiel obliged by slipping a third finger in and dipping his head down once more to lick over the head of Dean’s cock. It had been all Dean could manage to have lasted that long, but the wet heat of Cas’ mouth sent him over the edge. When Castiel felt Dean’s hips shudder and jerk he applied pressure against Dean’s prostate again. Mercilessly.

Cas made a mental note to buy a round of drinks for everyone on his floor at the campus pub as Dean came with a choked cry. He lifted his head just in time to avoid most of Dean’s come, letting it land on Dean’s stomach. He reached across to grab a tissue from his bedside table to clean off what he had caught on his chin.

“Holy shit,” Dean said, still breathing heavily.

Cas laid a hand on Dean’s chest to affirm that his heart was, indeed, beating fast. He smiled. “Doing okay?”

“Holy shit,” Dean said again. As his breathing slowed he laid a hand on Cas’ thigh. “Hey, what about you?”

He covered Dean’s hand with his own. “I’m okay for now. We’ll go get something to eat soon, and then I hope you realise I’m not intending on letting you sleep tonight.”

“Well, if that’s the case, then I’m not letting _you_ sleep tonight.”

“Yes, Dean,” Castiel rolled his eyes affectionately. “That’s… sort of implied.”

“ _You’re_ sort of implied.”

Castiel kissed Dean on the forehead. “Have I mentioned how much I love it when you have sex-brain?”

“Mmph,” Dean said as he rolled onto his side, burying his face into the pillow. “We’ll see how well _you_ talk after an awesome orgasm.”

After a silent moment, Cas asked, “Would you like a nap before we go eat?” The question was unnecessary as proven by Dean’s soft snore. “I guess so.” Castiel pulled the throw blanket from the end of the bed up over Dean’s naked back. Looking around the room, he sighed as he spotted the picture of him and Dean face-down on his desk. _Michael._ Pushing himself off the bed, he strode across the small space to right the photograph. “I don’t care what Michael says, Dean,” Castiel said to the two-dimensional Dean he held in his hands, his fingertips grazing over the surface. “I love you just the way you are.”


	5. Chapter 5

When Dean arrives home from work the next day Cas isn't there, but the couch is still occupied. He closes the door and sets his bag down as he stares at his brother's gigantic form. Sam is asleep, sock covered feet hanging off the sofa, the television on some news program.

He walks closer and smirks before tickling the bottom of Sam's feet. The teenager jumps immediately, moving like a startled moose as he stumbles upright before falling off the sofa.

Dean laughs instantly. "He's beauty, he's grace--"

"Shut up, jerk. I told you not to touch my fucking feet!"

Rolling his eyes, Dean turns into the kitchen and goes for a beer. When he gets it and pops the top off, he doesn’t bother with a glass… after all, it’s not like Cas is there to notice. “Why are you here, Sammy? It’s a school night.”

Sam is sitting up on the couch but still takes up almost the entire expanse of furniture, so Dean settles into the nearby recliner and takes a swig of his beer. 

Before the seventeen-year-old even answers, Dean knows. “Dad, again?” Sam and their father were only ever good at one thing: butting heads.

“I stuck up for a friend and got into a fight.” Dark lashes droop over hazel eyes as Sam watches the floor. “Got suspended for a week. Principal didn’t care about the explanation. Dad was pissed. _Three months from graduation,_ he said. _Fighting like a stupid punk with no ambition._ ”

It’s a testament to how little John knows Sam. Dean is clearly the ‘punk without ambition’, and a college dropout to boot. But at some point Sam stopped caring about proving himself to John and just let the older man believe what he wants. 

Dean’s eyes catch on his little brother’s wrist beneath his long-sleeved shirt. It’s pointless to be surprised about the bruises there. If anything, he’s shocked that Sam doesn’t have a shiner to match. 

This is Dean’s life. Not the fantasy that Cas creates around them, but the reality of an abusive drunken father and the memory of too many nights spent cold and hungry cuddled around his baby brother.

“Dad’s right,” Sam says, his voice just above a whisper. “With a suspension on my record, State will take back their scholarship offer. I’ll have nothing, just because I was too fucking nice and stood up for a friend.”

He sighs, not having any good advice for his brother. “Keep your chin up, Sammy. I’m sure if they do notice, you’ll be able to discuss it with someone.” 

It was beginning to seem like the Winchester name brought with it nothing but a cursed life. Even someone like Sam, who deserves better, still got screwed over in the end.

Of course, Dean knows he’s doing his best to screw up his own life, curse or not.

The door opens then, and both brothers lift their heads to watch Cas walk inside with a weighed down backpack. Dean feels guilt pooling in his stomach at just the _sight_ of his boyfriend. 

Cas notices them and grins as he shuts the door. “Hey Sam!” He keeps his backpack on as he walks over and leans down to give Sam a hug. “What a surprise. Isn’t it a school night?” While he waits for Sam to answer, he moves over to Dean and leans down to kiss him.

Dean savors the peppermint and coffee flavor of the kiss long after Cas pulls away. 

“Gross,” Sam mumbles scrunching up his face in mock disgust. “I’ve… I’ve got the week off. It’s a long story.” His voice gets quiet when he asks, “Can I… stay here?”

Dean sees the twitch of one hand pulling a sleeve over bruises, and beats Cas to an answer. “Of course.”

 

\---

 

Sam is observant, Dean knows this. He’s less surprised that Sam figures out something is up, and more so that it takes his brother two days. 

At least he has the tact to wait until Cas is out of the apartment to call Dean on it.

“So, when did you drop out of school?”

If someone had told Dean that double takes were things that people outside of cartoons actually did he probably would have told them they were high, or stupid, or both. But Dean nearly drops the plate he was drying, catching it just in time to avoid his brother’s stare.  
“What-- I didn’t! You... dropped--”

Sam sighs and Dean doesn’t need to turn around to catch the face Sam is giving him.

“Dean.”

_Fuck._

“How did you know?” His voice is low as he focuses on putting the dry plates away.

“I haven’t seen you take your textbooks out of your bag once since I’ve been here, you’re not complaining about your assignments at all, and there’s engine grease under your fingernails basically all the time.”

“What the hell, Sam? What are you, fucking _Sherlock_ now?”

“I just noticed.” He shrugs. “That, and the other morning, you know, when you said you and Cas were gonna walk to class together? I knew I wasn’t gonna be able to get back to sleep so I went for a walk... and I saw you double back across campus and catch the bus into town.”

“Shit. Well, we can’t all be geniuses.”

“But you were doing well! You liked your classes--”

“Sometimes that’s not enough.”

Sam considers this for a moment. “What does Cas think about it?”

Dean doesn’t let his silence give him away. “Cas doesn’t know.”

“ _Cas doesn’t know?!_ What the fuck Dean--”

“And it’s gonna stay that way, okay? Until I figure this out, anyway.” Dean moves to start drying the silverware. It looks pretty dry but he takes a towel over each piece anyway. He fucking hates drying silverware.

“But _why_ doesn’t he know? I’m pretty sure that when you live with someone you’re supposed to tell them shit like this.”

“I’m not _not telling_ him, I just… I just haven’t told him _yet._ ” Dean’s voice drops as he imagines for a moment that he’s just talking to himself. “I don’t know how to.”

The silence in the small room is heavy. “Dean… is everything okay between you two?”

“Jesus, Sam. Everything’s fine.” And he feels horrible for strong-arming his brother. He’s no better than their father. He’s eternally grateful when his brother graciously changes the subject. 

Or maybe Sam just gives up.

“So you’re working at a garage again?”

“Yeah, that place over on 5th. It’s alright.” 

“They giving you enough hours?”

“Yeah, thank Christ.” He’s about to say something else when his back stiffens at the sound of a key in the front door.

Castiel lets himself in and Dean can hear him go to their room and put his bag away before coming back into the kitchen. Dean can also feel Sam’s eyes on him the entire time.

“Hey,” Cas says when he sees Dean standing at the sink, and gives him a kiss. “Hi Sam,” he says brightly, his hand lingering on Dean’s shoulder. “Sorry I’m so late. What did you two have for supper?”

Dean clears his throat before he speaks. “Just a casserole thing. I wanted to use up that ground beef in the fridge but we didn’t have any hamburger buns.”

“I could have grabbed some and left them here for you, I’ve been back and forth twice already today. I love your hamburgers.”

“Well, your schedule is insane. I didn’t want to bother you.” Dean doesn’t even know if he feels defensive or not anymore.

“That’s fine.” He smoothes a hand down Dean’s shoulder. “It smells good in here. I’m sorry I missed it.”

“You didn’t,” Sam says. “We saved you some. It’s in the fridge.”

“Thank you! I hate to disappear on you both, but I’ve got some work to finish up for class tomorrow morning. Sam, I have some time tomorrow afternoon, if you want to catch up?”

“Sure Cas, that’d be great,” Sam says, and his smile is genuine. 

Castiel takes his tupperware container out of the fridge, grabs a fork from the drawer, and plants another kiss on Dean’s cheek before he retreats into the bedroom.

Dean’s all too aware of how his shoulders visibly relax when he hears the door click closed behind Castiel.

“Dean--”

“I don’t wanna hear it, Sammy--”

“--you gotta tell him you dropped out, Dean!” Sam forces out in a hiss. “Imagine how he’s gonna feel when he finds out you’ve been lying to him!”

_And not just lying about school,_ Dean’s mind supplies. “Sam, I already told you--”

“Dean, come on. The guy _loves_ you, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says, quietly.

“You know you do deserve that, right?”

“Sammy…I fucked up. What am I gonna do if he leaves? What will I do without him?” And he can’t help it, but his voice fucking cracks and the next thing he hears is Sam’s chair scraping across the floor as his brother leaps into action, and has his gangly limbs wrapped around Dean.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Concern is painted all over Sam’s face. “Who said he’s going to leave you over this? Dean… you didn’t do anything else, did you?”

“What? No.” He pushes Sam away and hopes it’s gentle. “I just haven’t been sleeping much. You know, living a double-life and all,” he jokes, and immediately regrets his choice of words. “But…”

“But I’m right and you know it. Face it Dean, you’ve gotta tell him.”

“Yeah…”

“Why don’t… why don’t you do something nice for him? Even I can tell the guy is stressed out. Maybe it’ll soften the blow?”

“Shit, Sam.”

“What?”

“No, that’s a good idea. Perfect, in fact.” He ruffles Sam’s hair affectionately and pointedly ignores the scowl it elicits. “Maybe I’ll get him a fancy watch… what do you think of that?”

“Nice, but those can get pretty pricey. You sure you can afford that?”

“Well, the garage is giving me enough to get by on… and I really don’t need those textbooks anymore. Those things are worth, fuck, _at least_ $300.”

“See? It’s gonna be fine, Dean.”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “It is.”

 

\---

 

Dean drives to a nearby jewelry store on his lunch break. As soon as he steps into the sparkling environment, he remembers that he’s still wearing overalls covered with grease and oil streaks. It makes him self-conscious, but hell, he’s got money in his pocket and at least his hands are clean. 

The salesperson has a fake smile plastered on her face when Dean asks about watches. She shows him to the case and every time he asks to see one up close, he can practically see the words lodging in her throat. _You can’t afford that._

In the end, he steps out with a bag holding a watch that was at the top of his budget. He’s certain that the only reason he picked that particular one, was to prove to the snooty bitch that he could, indeed, afford the watch. 

He sets the bag in his locker at work to keep it safe. There is a pool of regret forming in his stomach, remnants perhaps of living with so little for much of his life because that money would have been enough for two months’ worth of meals.

Shutting the locker, he puts his doubts out of his head. Cas will love the watch. It’s shiny and expensive and his type of thing. And Dean wants to make Cas happy. He wants to do whatever he can to make up for the mistake of sleeping with Benny, and he hopes to hell this will do it.

Because he don’t know what he’ll do if it doesn’t.


	6. Chapter 6

“Check,” Sam says, a smile spreading out across his face, “and mate.”

Cas glances over the chessboard and shakes his head. “I knew I should have picked Scrabble. You always kick my butt at chess.”

His phone rings from the kitchen counter and Cas tells Sam to reset the board while he goes to answer the call. It’s a sales associate from the college bookstore. Her voice is overly cheery as she informs Cas that the book Dean brought back earlier was underpriced and they owe him an extra twenty dollars. 

“Just tell him to show his student ID at the front counter,” she says.

“Th-thank you,” Castiel answers, going on autopilot. “I’ll do that.” After he hangs up the phone, Cas realizes that he’s clutching it so hard his knuckles are white. He turns to Sam without thinking, because Sam is smart and Sam would definitely know. “Why did Dean sell his books?”

Sam looks up, completely unprepared for the question. He stutters, obviously not as good at telling a lie on the spot as his older brother. “His books.” Sam frowns. “He, uh...”

“Sam,” Castiel warns. He doesn’t want to take his frustration out on Sam, but he also doesn’t want to be lied to. “Is he hurting for money again? Without telling me? I don’t know how he thinks he can get through his classes without his books.” Sam all but squirms in his seat and Castiel suddenly feels bad for making Sam so uncomfortable. But why should Sam feel uncomfortable? Castiel lets out a sigh. “It’s okay, Sam. I won’t make you betray your brother’s trust.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam says. He opens his mouth to speak before shutting it, and then finally saying something. “I don’t want to get involved, and I’m not going to, but I’m just going to say,” Sam pauses after letting the words all out in a rush, “that he loves you. He really does. I don’t know if he says it enough, or at all, but Dean’s got it bad for you. Has for a while.”

“Thank you, Sam.” He wants to be annoyed with Sam, but he can’t. There’s no point in it, anyway. If anything, he should be—is—annoyed with Dean, who shared something with his brother but not his live-in boyfriend of a year. Of course with Dean family would always come first, but it still hurt.

“Hey, no problem Cas.” Sam rubs his hand through his hair and Castiel is reminded of Dean. He just hopes Dean is going to be as forward as his little brother.

\---

Dean’s phone has a message on it when he finishes up at work for the day. _Sam and I are heading to the library for a bit. Dinner at 6 at Otto’s?_ When he checks his watch, he notices that he has just enough time to sneak home and change into a clean set of clothes before meeting his boyfriend and brother. After grabbing the stuff from his locker, including the way too expensive watch for Cas, he heads home.

Halfway there, his phone rings in his pocket. Expecting Cas with a change of plans, he doesn’t think twice before answering. “Hello?”

It’s not Cas, or Sam for that matter. It’s John. “Dean.”

He swallows the nasty taste that immediately develops on his tongue. He’s got enough stress in life without having to deal with John Winchester on top of it. “Dad.”

“Put Sam on a bus home. Tell him he’s old enough to know he can’t run from his problems.”

Dean’s actually surprised it’s taken his dad so long to call about the matter. Usually John’s so pissed he calls before Sam even gets to Dean’s. And it says a lot about the man that this isn’t the first time. It’s easier to stand up against his father when so many miles separate them. “He says he’s suspended for the week, what’s it going to hurt if he cools off at my place for a few days?”

“Suspended?” John huffs out a laugh into the phone. “Is that what he told you?”

He ignores his confusion for a moment as he steps off the bus at his stop. Once he’s walking towards the apartment he replies, “Yes, and I believe him. He’s my brother… he has no reason to lie to me.”

“Well I hate to break your heart, but Sam wasn’t suspended.”

Dean stops, eyes scanning the area around him but not really seeing. He’s trying to figure out why Sam would feel the need to lie; what would be such a big issue that he can’t tell Dean about it?

John doesn’t leave him wondering for long. “You know my boss, Eliot Moore?”

“Yes,” Dean answers, remembering the skinny guy in charge of the factory where his father’s worked for years. “What about him?”

“He’s got a daughter, Jessica. She goes to school with Sam, is about a year younger than him. They’ve had the hots for each other for a while now.”

Jessica? The name rings a bell in Dean’s mind, but he can’t remember much more than Sam saying he liked her. “And?”

“And,” John growls, “her daddy just fired me because his little innocent virgin is expecting.”

_What does that have to do with Sam,_ is on his tongue. Then it hits Dean like a semi-truck. Oh. “Fuck.”

He tries to imagine his baby brother with a kid and comes up short. He suddenly understands why Sam lied about his reasoning for being there. Sam’s looking for refuge and a solution to his problem. He probably would have already confessed to Dean, if not for all of Dean’s own shit getting in the way.

All Dean knows is that sending the boy back to John and his angry fists is not the answer.

\---

When Dean rounds the corner to their favorite diner shortly after six, Cas and Sam are standing out front, waiting for him. Unease settles in the pit of his stomach immediately, but he forces a smile and tries to act normal. “Hey,” he manages, meeting Cas’ eyes but not Sam’s. “Been waiting long?”

“No,” Cas replies. “We just got here.” Apparently Dean isn’t hiding his emotions well enough, because Cas lets his eyes search Dean’s face, concern evident in his blue eyes.

Beside them, Sam is completely unaware. He’s bouncing on his feet and already moving to open the front door of the restaurant. “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving.”

“Grab us a seat,” Cas suggests, stepping into the restaurant but not moving out of the foyer. He places his hand on Dean’s arm, holding him back from tailing after his little brother. “Dean, what’s wrong?”

Dean rubs his hands over his face and lets out a long sigh. An hour from hearing the news, he still has no idea how to handle it. “Fuck,” he breathes.

“You know that does nothing to reassure me, right?”

_May as well lay it all out now._ “I just got off the phone with our dad.”

The tension in Cas’ shoulders eases a little. It’s not the first time Sam has escaped to their place and John has called wanting the boy to go back. “He wants Sam to come home.”

If only it were that easy. “Yeah, sorta. He—he didn’t get in trouble at school, Cas.” Dean looks nervously into the restaurant to where Sam is sitting with his back to them. “He knocked up his girlfriend.”

“Oh.” Castiel is taken aback by the revelation.

“Yeah, ‘Oh’ is right. Fuck Cas, what the hell am I supposed to do about this?” He’s spent his whole life protecting his little brother, and for the first time… he has no idea how to keep doing that. Sam’s being thrust into a situation where he’s going to have to make very adult decisions, and Dean isn’t sure if he should tell the boy to ‘man up’ or offer as much help as possible.

Instead of giving Dean an opportunity to continue dwelling on everything, Cas steps forward and simply says, “I think right now we should go inside and have some dinner.”

When Dean tries to protest, Cas takes Dean’s hands into his own and pulls them to rest between their chests. He leans into Dean and kisses the corner of his mouth. It’s so chaste and sweet that it causes Dean’s eyes to slip shut as he remembers a similar kiss a few months prior on Christmas Eve.

With the recent mess that Dean has made of his life, it’s hard sometimes to remember the good moments. Cas’ gentle touch and silent reminder of love is enough to ease the tension off of his shoulders. He squeezes his boyfriend’s hands and smiles. “Let’s go eat.”

\---

Sam decides to return home the next day to face the music. Dean had repeatedly offered to go back with Sam, including when he was dropping off at the bus depot.

"Are you sure you don't want me to tag along? Sam, I'll never forgive myself if Dad—" and he can't help his eyes from tracing back to Sam's sleeve edges that still hide fading bruises.

"I can handle Dad, Dean."

"Can you? Because earlier this week I came home to a moose on my couch that could definitely _not_ handle Dad.” 

“I’ll… I’ll be fine. I guess I just needed some space from him. From it. From this whole shit-show. I guess I’m just selfish.” 

“Well, maybe you’re allowed to be a little selfish. That was it, though. You gotta deal with it now. You sure you don’t want any backup?”

“I’m sure, Dean. Besides, you've got your own shit to deal with."

_Thanks for the reminder._ "Yeah, well... when is that ever not the case?" Dean has to laugh at himself, because the truth of it stings too much. He should be forcing his way onto that bus with his brother, and back into his life. He won't admit to himself just how much he would kill to be able to deal with someone else's problems. “Just, you promise me, Sammy. Promise me if things get bad you’ll call Ellen.”

“Dean, I don’t—”

“I already filled her in, I don’t care what you think. She’s the only person I think Dad’s scared of, anyway.”

Sam looks thoughtful. “Yeah, fair point.”

Dean ruffles his hand through Sam’s hair and his little brother looks every bit the red-faced kid Dean will always remember him as. “Christ, I can’t believe you’re gonna be somebody’s Dad.”

“Neither can I, but if Jess can’t run from it then why should I?”

“That’s a good way to put it, yeah.” Dean feels proud of his little brother then. He knows he hasn’t made the best decisions, far from it, actually. But he’s facing the consequences head on. He’s not running from them. Sam’s not lying to anyone.

Dean thinks about the watch wrapped in a fancy box back at the apartment. Throwing expensive gifts at the problem isn’t going to fix things in his life, but he’s still hopeful that it will ease enough of the tension between him and Cas to allow for things to get sorted. 

He’s tired of running from his own problems.

\---

Castiel is back from his class when Dean returns to the apartment. Dean knows this because his shoes are pushed up against the wall and his coat is hanging by the door. “I’m home!” he calls into the empty room in front of him.

“I’m in the living room,” comes the reply. The apartment is small enough it takes little effort to hold a conversation across the span of it.

“Got Sam on the bus,” Dean offers when Castiel says nothing further. He pulls off his jacket and hangs it next to the other one before toeing off his boots.

“Good, I’m glad,” Castiel says as Dean comes into view of the small living room. He’s sitting on their couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table, one book open on his lap and several more arrayed around him. “I think he’ll be okay,” Cas says. “He’s got a good head on his shoulders.”

“Yeah… I’m glad at least one of us takes after our mom.” Dean picks up the book resting against Cas’ hip, careful to not lose the page it’s open to. He settles into Cas’ side, revelling in the warmth. It had been cold outside, and he feels much, much better now. “You just about done studying for the night?” he says against the other man’s neck, punctuating his words with a kiss just below his ear. 

“Dean.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Dean says as he slides his hand across his boyfriend’s stomach, and as good as the soft fabric of the worn t-shirt feels, the bare skin under it is going to feel so much better.

“Dean,” Castiel repeats, and clears his throat, sitting up a little straighter. He plucks a piece of paper that had been tucked in the book he was reading. He hands it to Dean.

“Yeah, what’s this?” He unfolds the slip, eyes still on Castiel.

“I meant to tell you earlier, but then everything with Sam happened.”

Dean’s eyes skim over the hand-written message at first, not really caring what it says. Part of him still feels proud, after all this time, that he can make out Cas’ haphazard spider scrawl that he calls handwriting.

Then he actually reads it.

_Dean— call campus bookstore. One book underpriced. Owe you $20._

“Your books sold.”

_Shit._


	7. Chapter 7

The truth is there, on the tip of his tongue. _Just tell him,_ Dean thinks. But Castiel is watching him with curious-on-the-edge-of-angry eyes and he panics. “I know we don’t usually do the whole ‘Valentine’s Day’ thing, but some guys—” _at work_ “—in class were mentioning that it’s next week, and I wanted to get you something.”

Why is lying so easy? 

Leaving Cas on the sofa for a moment, Dean gets up and moves over to where he left his bag sitting last. He can feel Cas’ eyes on his back the entire time although he won’t turn to meet his gaze. Dean pulls out the present and carries it over to his boyfriend. 

It’s an unassuming box, plain black, way too large to be mistaken for a ring box. The shop girl had put a silver ribbon and bow on it when Dean had told her it was a gift. It looks classy, much more so than Dean would normally have been able to afford.

“Dean—” Cas watches Dean sit back down, before letting his eyes drift to the box in his hands. “It isn’t Valentine’s Day yet.”

“I know. But you’ve already ruined the surprise, and if I don’t give it to you now, it’ll just drive you nuts all week.” Dean passes the box over and balls his fists in his lap, trying not to seem too nervous as Cas slips the ribbon off. When the box is opened and the watch unveiled, Castiel lets out a soft gasp. 

Dean expects anger and arguments over the much-too-expensive present. Instead he gets a lap full of happy boyfriend as Cas immediately snuggles into him. 

“It’s beautiful, Dean.” Castiel plants a kiss on Dean’s lips and lets it linger.

“Good,” Dean smiles. He kisses him back. “I’m glad you like it. Here.” Taking the gift out of Castiel’s hand he eases the watch from its case and onto Cas’ wrist. 

Castiel holds out his arm to admire his new accessory.

“It looks good on you,” Dean says.

“I love it...” Castiel replies. Cradling Dean’s face in both his hands he gives him another kiss. He smiles, and his eyes crinkle around the edges, but they look worried.

Dean can sense the end of Cas’ sentence dangling in the air. “But…?”

“But you didn’t need to sell your books just to buy me something nice. You _need_ those.” He pokes Dean in the chest with his forefinger to drive his point home.

“Ouch!” He covers Cas’ hand with his own and brings it down to his lap. “It’ll be fine. Term’s almost over,” _The term_ is _almost over,_ Dean tells himself. _That much is the truth._

Before Castiel can reply Dean moves his hands to Cas’ hips, and leans into another kiss. He parts Castiel’s lips with his tongue and licks into his mouth. He uses his body weight to push Castiel back onto the couch. He lines his body along Castiel’s, relishing in the heat he can feel, even through their clothes. “Fuck, I love you so much,” Dean says, their foreheads pressed together.

“I love you, too.” Castiel kisses up into Dean, his hands skirting along Dean’s sides, rucking his shirts up under his arms. “But you should probably take this off.”

“Mmm, not gonna argue with that.” Dean sits up, his weight balanced comfortably across Cas’ hipbones. He shucks his long-sleeved t-shirt in one easy movement, letting it sail across the small living room.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Castiel growls, dragging his fingers up and down Dean’s chest. 

“Thank you, but you can call me Dean,” he says, reaching a hand beside him to squeeze Cas’ hardening cock through his jeans.

Cas moans at the sensation and digs his fingernails into Dean’s back just enough to give himself leverage to sit up. “You’re lucky you’re sexy enough to get away with being ridiculous.”

“I’m lucky you think I’m sexy.”

“Fuck, I want you so bad. How do you _do_ that?”

“Sorcery?” Dean shrugs.

“Go, get in the bedroom and take your pants off. Now.” The want in Castiel’s voice is palpable.

Dean doesn’t have to be told twice. His jeans are practically around his knees as soon as he’s off the couch, and they’re a distant memory by the time he throws himself backwards onto the bed. Castiel follows close behind, and this time he’s the one on top, grinding down into Dean. Dean’s cock is hard now, too, and pitching an impressive tent in his shorts. “Why are you wearing so many clothes?” he huffs out in mock annoyance.

“I don’t know. It’s quite strange, isn’t it?” But before Castiel lets Dean rip any of his clothes off, he stops, and carefully removes his new watch before placing it on the bedside table. Dean’s eyes are fixed hungrily on Castiel’s every movement. As soon as the watch is settled on the painted wooden surface Dean works to quickly unbutton Castiel’s shirt. Eager hands push the shirt down his shoulders, off his arms, and then move down to make quick work of the zipper at Cas’ jeans.

Castiel leans down, covers Dean’s body with his, and begins to suck a mark into his collarbone. The sensation makes Dean’s dick twitch and a moan escapes his lips.

“Fuck, Cas, why does that feel so good?”

“I don’t know, but as long as you keep making noises like that I’m never going to stop.” He drags his teeth over Dean’s skin before giving him a nip halfway down his chest. He kisses further down and pulls Dean’s cock out of his shorts without looking, his eyes locked with Dean’s the whole time. He breaks eye contact to sink his mouth onto Dean’s length in one movement, hollowing his cheeks to create suction, his tongue swirling around the shaft.

Dean sucks in a sharp breath, followed by, “Jesus Christ!”

Cas pulls off and shoots Dean a smirk. “I usually go by Castiel, but thank you.”

“You’re horrible and I hate you,” Dean says through his grin.

“Sure you do.” Castiel reaches up and drags his nails down Dean’s chest before moving closer to his face and whispering in his ear, “Do you hate me too much to let me fuck you?”

“Hell no,” Dean says, kissing him. “Take the rest of your stupid clothes off, I’ll get the lube.”

As Castiel rolls off to the side to slide his pants off, Dean rolls in the other direction to fish through the side table drawer. His eyes move over the watch sitting there, innocently, and something turns over in his stomach. He’s not sure if he likes it or not. _Sure could have used that money… but this will be worth it._ Brushing the feeling and all non-sex thoughts aside, Dean’s hand closes around his prize. He returns to the center of the bed, only to realise the bottle feels suspiciously light. He tests its weight in his hand, shaking it a couple times, before flipping open the cap and confirming his worst fears.

“Shit.”

“What?” Castiel asks, now completely naked.

“Shit.”

“You know that doesn’t actually clarify anything, right?”

Dean sighs. “The lube’s out.”

“Shit. Don’t we have any more? I could have sworn I bought a backup.”

“Yeah, this one.”

“Did you not notice it being empty the last time you used it?”

“Hey, pretty sure that was the both of us, and we were both pretty distracted.”

Cas sighs and presses his lips into a thin line. “I suppose I could run out to the pharmacy on the corner—”

“No,” Dean interrupts his naked boyfriend. “I’m not going to make you go to the store like—” Dean gestures to Cas’ still-hard cock standing very valiantly at attention, “—that.”

“No, that’s not exactly ideal,” Castiel says. “It’s okay. We can still fool around.” He extends an arm around his boyfriend, pulling him in close.

Dean follows the movement but an idea sparks in his mind. “Mmm, yes we can.” Shucking his shorts quickly, and tossing the traitorous bottle of lube after it, he turns around onto his side so that his back is flush against Castiel’s chest. 

“Dean, what are you—”

“Trust me. Move down a little.” Castiel wiggles himself down the bed, until Dean reaches back and squeezes his hip in approval. “That’s good.” He spits into his palm and reaches down between his legs.

“Dean, you can’t seriously—”

‘No, not that. Put yourself here.” He lifts one leg slightly, arching his ass back and up, and Cas slides his cock onto the spit-slick surface of Dean’s inner thigh. Squeezing his legs together, Dean rocks his hips back then squeezes them together as he brings them forward.

Suddenly Cas gets the idea.

He lets out a moan and begins thrusting into the wet space between Dean’s legs, burying his face between his shoulder blades.

“Yeah, there ya go.” Dean’s voice is encouraging. He slicks his palm with what is probably the last of his saliva and starts jerking himself off. He gets into a rhythm where he's able to thrust into his fist as he holds his thighs together and pulls against Cas' cock. He's done this enough times as the other person to know how good it feels. The fact that Cas is gasping heavy and wet into his back is a good clue, too.  
“Dean—” Castiel latches his hand onto the outside of Dean’s thigh for leverage.

“How ya doin’ there, babe?”

“Mmm, good.”

Dean can feel himself getting close but he slows his hand and holds off until a break in Cas' steady rhythm announces that he's catching up. His nails dig against the skin on Dean's leg painfully, but a part of him enjoys the sensation. Castiel gasps and grunts, and it's followed by a white spurt that splashes against Dean's balls and his hand. Less than half a dozen quick pulls on his own cock and he's coming too, while Cas is still panting through the last of his orgasm.

Sticky but sated, he cranes his head back to plant a kiss on Cas' lips. "Now did we make do, or did we make do?"

"We're buying lube tomorrow—"

"—oh, first thing," he assures him.

"—but that was amazing."

"Good." Dean smiles, rolling to face Castiel and wrapping his arms around him. "I'm glad." He plants a kiss to the top of his head.

“Where did you even learn that?” he asks, looking up at Dean.

“Oh, you know. It’s just something you figure out.”

Castiel laughs. “Something _you_ figure out, maybe.”

“Hey, don’t knock it, it did the job didn’t it? It’s also a hell of a trick if you don’t have a condom handy. Sometimes the chick can even get off too if you rub against her just right. It’s hard to not slip in, tho.”

“Dean, ew.”

“What? You know I’m not, you know, _strictly dickly._ ”

“First off, please stop calling it that. No one else says that. And you know I don’t care about that, it’s just, I don’t know…”

“No, what?”

Castiel shrugs. “It’s just the idea of you with someone else. Even if it was before we met.”

Dean takes a deep breath. “Well, it’s your fault for asking how I ‘figured that out.’”

“Okay, fair point. But… you’re mine, aren’t you?”

“Yeah babe, all yours.”

\---

The ringtone that reverberates through the quiet bedroom sometime later is the only thing that tells Dean he must have drifted off. Cas is curled against his chest, breathing steadily, but Dean worries he won't be much longer if his damn phone keeps ringing. Easing one arm away from around Cas slowly, Dean leans back over the edge of the bed and reaches down to the ground where "Back in Black" is emanating out of his discarded jeans. He checks the caller ID and the familiar first few digits tells him it's a number from somewhere on campus. That's a call he can deal with later. He hits "decline" on the screen so the call will go to voicemail. He goes to place the phone on the side table but his eyes flick to the top of the screen out of habit. He got a text message while he was asleep. Or while they were having sex. _Could be Sammy,_ he thinks sleepily as his thumb swipes over the icon.

It's not from Sammy.

It's from Benny.

_How u doin? Did everything get worked out? Would b nice to hear from u._


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many apologies for this being late! Life just decided to really happen for both the authors this week. Thanks for sticking with us!
> 
> Also?
> 
> Hang on to your butts. **warning this chapter may contain traces of angst or angst by-products**

When Castiel wakes up on a miserable late February morning, the space beside him is empty. Castiel smiles. He’s been worried how Dean was going to get through the last of the semester with no books but his boyfriend has certainly been putting in the hours. Most days that week—no, all of them—Dean had already left for the library by the time Castiel is waking up. Part of him resents not having any early-morning-still-not-completely-awake kisses but he knows there’ll be plenty of chances for that again soon. It’s the first day of the last week of exams and then they will have one very glorious week all to themselves.

Castiel chuckles. If Michael only knew what he’ll be getting up to in that cabin—Cas’ smile drops. Michael doesn’t know and Michael _can’t_ know.

He shoves Michael out of his mind as he throws back the covers and pushes himself off the bed. Dean needs a break, he knows. He knows that Dean enjoys his classes, but also that it’s a lot of stress on Dean. Not to mention how worried he must be about Sam, who’s now suddenly got a baby on the way at seventeen.

There’s a _thud_ that sounds from the kitchen, followed by a hushed, “Fuck!”

So Dean hasn’t quite left for school yet. Castiel diverts his usual route of going straight to the bathroom to head left down the short hallway instead. He might be able to get that morning kiss after all.

When Dean comes into view he doesn’t notice Castiel right away. He’s got a piece of toast hanging from his mouth and is hopping on one socked foot, trying slip a boot on the other.

“Hey. Morning,” Castiel manages to get out through his sleep-dry mouth.

“Shit, I woke you,” Dean says around his toast.

He seems angry, though with who Castiel can’t tell. “No, I was already awake when I heard you.” He moves closer. “Would you—” he reaches forward and plucks the half-eaten toast out of Dean’s mouth “—like a hand?”

“No, I’ve got it.” He pulls his other boot on easier now, and takes his breakfast back from Cas.

“You didn’t put any jam on your toast.”

“Huh? Uh, I guess not. Listen, I gotta run. I’m going to be late.”

“Late? It’s 6:30. What time is your exam?”

“Not till later, but I’ve got to meet Charlie at the library, like now. She really likes to crack the whip, that one.”

“Alright. Um, have a good day. I love you.”

“Yeah I love you too.”

Dean is already practically out the door when Castiel sees Dean’s backpack leaning against the wall under the coat hook. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“What?” Dean stares blankly at him, his mouth chewing.

Castiel directs a pointed look towards the bag and Dean follows his gaze.

It takes him a moment to catch on. “Oh. Yeah.” He picks it up. “Thanks.” Almost as an afterthought he leans forward to give Cas a kiss. “Sorry, toast-kiss.”

“It’s okay, Dean.”

“I gotta run, I’ll see you later, okay?”

The door closes behind Dean and Castiel stands there until he can no longer hear footsteps echo down the hallway. Is he still half-asleep, or was that _odd_? He shakes his head and makes for the kitchen, deciding that getting the coffee pot going is more important than anything else right now.

It’s only when he’s counting out the scoops of coffee grounds that he remembers that Dean didn’t just not put jam on his toast. He didn’t put anything on it.

Dean _hates_ dry toast.

\---

The next day, Castiel is invited by a study partner out to lunch for a last minute test prep. Dean isn't home when he leaves and heads for the bus and he assumes more studying with Charlie is taking place. If she weren’t completely uninterested in the male gender Castiel might feel a little jealous, what with all the time Dean has been spending hitting the books with her.

“This place makes the best sandwiches,” Rachel says as they step off the city bus. “And they don’t mind if you spread your books out all over the place as long as you order a coffee or something every couple hours.”

“Sounds good,” Castiel says, looking around the block. He doesn’t normally get to this part of town. Their destination is at the opposite end of the block where the bus dropped them. Castiel eyes with moderate interest the used bookstore they pass. Next to the bookstore is a garage. 

“Hey!” Rachel pokes Castiel in the ribs when she catches him eyeing with considerably more interest the well-shaped backside of a mechanic who’s got his head craned under the hood of a car. “ _You’ve_ got a boyfriend, mister. A really hot one too, if I remember correctly.”

“Rachel!” Cas hisses, trying to stifle a giggle and suppress a blush at the same time. “Shhh!” He grabs her elbow and makes to move past the garage as quickly as possible, lest he be caught ogling strange men in public. He never was able to be as forward with those types of things as Dean.

The mechanic in question extracts himself from the insides of the car fairly quickly, apparently looking for the source of the laughter. Castiel sees him straighten up from out of the corner of his eye, almost out of range now, and can’t help but look back once.

Later he’ll wonder what would have happened if he never had.

“Dean?”

“Uhh… Hi, Cas.”

“What—”

“—Cas, I can explain—”

“—Dean, do you _work_ here?”

“That… that would be the explanation, yeah.” Dean wipes a greasy palm on the front of his coveralls but afterwards seems entirely unsure of what to do with his hands.

“But… you have an exam today.” Nothing makes sense. Dean doesn’t have a job. He’s too busy with school, he’s in the library most days before classes even start—

Oh.

“Dean.” The word is even, Cas’ voice low. Rachel is hanging back, not saying a word. “What are you doing here?”

“Look Cas, can we talk about this later? I—I gotta work.”

“How the hell do you even have time for this?” His voice gets louder. “Are you cutting classes now?”

Dean nervously looks over his shoulder at his boss and another mechanic. “Cas, please.” He moves to touch his boyfriend’s shoulder but stops when he realises his hand’s covered in engine grease. “I’ll see you at home?”

“You have time to have _a job_ but not to talk to your boyfriend?”

“Dammit, Cas! I don’t have time for this.” Dean runs a hand through his hair, and the grease leaves a dark smudge on his forehead. “It’s just, I already took my break—”

Castiel sees the pleading in those green eyes and relents. “Fine. It’s fine. I don’t have time for this either. Come on, Rachel.” He moves quickly down the sidewalk, Rachel quietly and confusedly following in his wake. 

Dean doesn’t even have the chance to reply.

\---

Castiel didn’t stay nearly as long at the café as he had intended. He left Rachel to the studying only about forty-five minutes after he’d gotten there. He couldn’t focus. Rachel didn’t seem to mind; he could only handle so many sympathetic glances anyway.

When he headed back to the bus he walked around the block the long way so he wouldn’t have to walk past the garage again.

_Dean’s garage._

He pushes the thought out of his head as he swipes his bus pass through the card reader on the bus, and again when he comes home to an empty apartment. Television holds little interest so he tries to busy himself in the kitchen. He starts with the ample pile of clean cutlery sitting in the dish drainer. The distraction works because by the time Dean comes home a few hours later Castiel has calmed down enough to put dinner on.

When he hears the key in the door, and Dean taking off his boots in the hall, Castiel doesn’t call out to Dean. He finishes transferring the green beans out of the vegetable steamer and lets Dean come to him. Cas finally acknowledges him as he leans against the doorframe, not quite daring to enter the kitchen.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says, keeping his eyes on his task at the stove top. “How was work?”

“Dammit, Cas, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my job.”

“Dean,” he says with a sigh, “it’s okay.” He places the dish of beans on the table and takes two plates out of the cupboard above the sink. He sets the plates on the table and goes to Dean, wrapping the confused-looking man in his arms.

“It is? I thought you’d still be mad.”

“I’m not _mad_ , Dean. I’m just concerned that you’ll still be able to keep up with school. I mean, first the books, and now the job. You’re not making things easy on yourself, are you?”

“Cas—” Dean covers one of Castiel’s hands with his own and slides it off his own as he pulls out of the hug. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“I know, Dean. I know you’re more than capable than taking care of yourself—”

“No, it’s not that.” Dean cuts him off. “I mean, I _am_ , but… Cas, I dropped out of school. Two months ago.”

The words hit Castiel like a slap to the face.

\---

Dean wants to feel like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders and part of him does. He doesn’t have to sneak around anymore, or watch his words when talking about his day, and he can _sleep in_ —

The look on Cas’ face shuts off the more hopeful of his thoughts.

“What do you mean, ‘two months’?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you Cas, I am. I just, I didn’t know how.”

“It can’t be that hard, Dean, you just did it.”

Castiel’s words sting, and Dean doesn’t blame Cas for it at all. “I’m sorry Cas, it— it was just too much.”

“So why didn’t you just tell me? Two months… you’ve been lying this whole time? Studying for your classes ‘too much’ but crafting an elaborate ruse to keep the person who loves you in the dark is somehow worth the energy?”

“Come on, Cas, it’s not like that.”

“What else are you keeping from me, Dean?”

_I fucked my ex last month._ “Dammit Cas, nothing!” 

Castiel turns and slides past Dean in the doorway without touching him. Dean follows him down the hall and into the bedroom. “Dammit, talk to me, Cas.”

“I—I can’t talk to you right now, Dean.”

“Cas, please. You don’t know what it was like—”

Castiel spins to face Dean, his anger palpable. “No, I _don’t_ know what it was like! And do you know why? You didn’t fucking tell me!”

“I’m sorry—”

“Sorry for what? That I care about you?” Dean tries to put his hands on Cas’ arms but he flinches out of the touch. “No, Dean.” His voice quiets. “Why didn’t you let me be there for you?” 

“God Cas, I’m so sorry. Please, _please_ let me make it up to you.”

“Just, let me in, Dean. That’s all I ask.”

“Of course, Cas. Of course I will.” He chuckles as Castiel finally lets him pull him in for a hug. “I’m sorry you fell in love with such a fuck-up with no future.”

“Dean, you don’t have to be a fuck-up, and your future will be fine.”

Dean lets out of sigh of relief.

Castiel rubs a soothing hand over Dean’s back and continues. “Why don’t we go down to admissions first thing tomorrow? It’s too late for this semester but maybe you can pick up where you left off for the spring semester.”

“Cas, no.” This time Dean is the one pulling out of the embrace.

“No, it’ll be fine. It might not even affect your GPA that much.”

“Cas, no! God, don’t you fucking get it?” He clenches his hands into fist in mid-air before taking a shaky breath and letting them fall to his sides. “I don’t want to be in fucking school!” His voice reverberates around the empty room. He can hear the laugh track of a neighbour’s television echo dimly through the wall. “Whatever it is that you want for me, Cas. That’s just it. It’s what _you_ want for me. And it’s just…” He takes a deep breath and all the fight is gone out of him. “It’s just not me.”

Castiel blinks once, narrows his eyes, and walks out of the room. Dean just stands in the middle of their bedroom, waiting. Castiel returns only a moment later, holding his laptop in one hand and its cord in the other. He picks his backpack up and slides the thing in.

“Cas, come on, don’t be like that.”

Castiel says nothing, but casts his gaze around the room, looking for something. Dean’s annoyed. What, is Cas gonna go to the library and study this problem away, too?

His heart threatens to escape through his stomach when Castiel opens the top drawer and starts stuffing his bag with clean socks and underwear. A change of pants, two shirts, and a sweater follow.

“Cas—”

Castiel zips up his bag, taking it with him to the front door. He toes on his shoes and puts on his coat before swinging his bulgingly full bag onto both shoulders.

“Come on, Cas. Talk to me.”

Castiel places his hand on the doorknob and pauses.“I just—I need to get some fresh air.” He steps through the door and is gone.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because you guys dealt with us posting a day late last week, we shot for a day early this week! Made all the more easy because we're sitting in the same room!
> 
> [](http://s1377.photobucket.com/user/ltcdeanwinchester/media/20141011_134425_zps852b4193.jpg.html)
> 
> (If you read whats on the screens you will only spoil the current chapter. Nice try guys. :P (To our minions/club members/cult followers: I have added something to the information of this story that you should take note of. - B)

The apartment is a desolate mess without Cas. As the first twenty-four hours passes, Dean sits around in nothing but a depressed stupor. Because it’s his fault. Cas is gone and it’s his fault. At some point, not even a drunk fog can help him cope. He can’t sleep, can’t eat; the house is a mess and fuck… he misses Cas. This is why he tried so hard to keep all of his secrets bundled up inside. 

At the thirty-six hour mark, he caves. It’s too quiet and he can’t handle it. His phone is in his hands before he knows what’s happening, and it’s Benny’s name that his thumb touches on the screen. 

It rings twice before a familiar voice is answering. “Thought you moved on without me, brother.”

“Yeah, well... ” The words ‘bad’ and ‘idea’ circle around the back of his mind. “Been busy.” Now that Benny is on the line, Dean has no idea what he wants. The apartment is void of alcohol, but he doesn’t feel like drinking. A pause fills the line, until finally Dean manages a quick, “You wanna come over?”

Benny is obviously surprised by the invite. Even when they were a ‘thing’ it was always at Benny’s place, never Dean’s. “Sure,” comes the drawled reply, smooth and easy. “Now?”

“Any time is fine,” Dean says, and he hopes that it sounds casual and not desperate at all.

“Alright, then. I’ll be right over.”

Dean texts him the address and looks around the apartment. He tells himself that he’s not going to tidy up. He might be desperate but he doesn’t want to look it. He realises there’s dirty socks on the couch and decides that picking up a few things isn’t too much. When the buzzer rings twenty minutes later he’s got an armful of clothes that he shoves in the bedroom closet. He can’t help but notice that none of them were Cas’. Cas never left his shit just laying about.

He hears a knock at the door and his stomach flips over itself. _It’s just sex,_ he tells himself. _You’ve done this before._ He pushes one more dirty plate under the couch with his foot as he walks to the front hall and opens the door. 

Benny leans against the door frame as he takes in the sight of Dean and a smile spreads over his face. “Well hey there, brother. Long time no see.”

Dean lets autopilot take over as he pulls Benny through the door by his belt loops. He kisses Benny before pulling back and letting go. “How ya doin’, Benny?”

“Good, I’m good.”

“Sorry I haven’t got much to offer you. Haven’t had the time to make a beer run.”

“That’s alright. Not what I came for.” Benny’s tone is casual as he shrugs off his jacket and kicks off his boots. “You know, when you didn’t reply to any of my texts I thought you’d moved on.”

Dean ducks his face as he leads them both to the couch in the living room. Benny sits down first and Dean lowers himself onto Benny’s lap. “Like I said, it’s been kind of crazy.” He busies himself sliding his hands under Benny’s soft woolen over shirt.

“Not now, though?”

“No… it’s eased off,” and Dean tries his best to chase away all thoughts of exactly how things have changed.

“Whatever you say, brother.”

Dean lets himself find Benny’s lips and pushes everything he has into the kiss. He’s not hard yet but he grinds his hips down anyway, in case there was any chance his message hadn’t been crystal clear. Dean can feel that Benny’s cock is beginning to get in the game and so he licks deeper into Benny’s mouth, making the kiss as dirty as possible.

Benny returns the kiss, his strong hands cradling the back of Dean’s head. Dean breaks the kiss to expose his neck and Benny catches on quickly. He noses down behind Dean’s ear and into the crook of his neck. His nips and bites on the sensitive skin send shivers all over Dean’s skin and he leans in for more. As Benny slides a hand down the back of Dean’s pants he starts to suck on a certain spot under Dean’s jaw. It’s all Dean can do to hold still.

Dean continues grinding between Benny’s hands and his lap. When Benny starts to groan out the sounds Dean was going for he slides off Benny’s lap, not very gracefully. He settles himself between Benny’s knees and hastily works at the button of his jeans. Benny’s more than half hard now and Dean imagines it’s a relief when he gets the zipper down and Benny’s erection stands almost free under the thin fabric of his boxers. Dean eases the elastic waistband over the head of Benny’s cock and leaves it to sit comfortably low on his hips.

Since his own erection isn’t going to make an appearance, it seems, he decides that he will put as much effort into losing himself in Benny’s pleasure as he can. Closing his eyes, Dean leans forward and wraps his lips around the fat cock presented before him.

It isn’t Benny that he begins to suck off, though. Despite the size difference, and the fact that Benny’s dick is cut while Castiel’s is not, all Dean can think of is his boyfriend.

\---

“Dean, you feel so fucking good,” Castiel groaned. His fingers curled through dirty blonde hair and tugged gently.

With a smirk on his lips, Dean pulled away from Cas’ cock with a soft ‘pop’. Sucking each other off was really as far as they ever went but, after three weeks, Dean was ready for more. He stared intently at his new boyfriend and continued stroking his spit-slick cock as he spoke. “Cas, I want you to fuck me.”

It had been a topic of contention between them because Castiel was worried about how he would perform his first time, but Dean was tired of waiting, and he trusted Cas.

“Dean—“

“I know, Cas, you’re worried, but I trust you and I know that we can work through this moment together.” Dean reached up and grasped Castiel’s hand, intertwining their fingers together. “Please. If you’re, uh, up to it.” 

Castiel rolled his eyes at the joke but returned to the moment quickly. He leaned down to kiss Dean, one hand still touching the back of his head. “I would, yes. You’ll have to show me what to do, but I would very much like to fuck you.”

“Okay then,” Dean said, his eyes bright and his smile more than just a little lecherous. Bending over the edge of the bed, Dean fumbled blindly under the mattress until he found what they needed. His eyes met Cas’ and they softened. He laid a hand on Cas’ naked thigh. “I’ll walk you through it, babe. You’ll do just fine.”

\---

“Yeah Dean, you’re doin’ just fine.”

Dean wants to feel proud of whatever skill he has, of how he’s making Benny feel. He sinks his mouth down lower and tries to take all of Benny in his mouth. Benny’s head doesn’t even hit the back of Dean’s mouth when he gags. It’s so bad he has to pause, and pull his mouth completely off Benny’s dick.

“Woah there, you alright?”

This should be easy. Dean’s done this more times than he can count. He can’t even remember the first time he was with Benny. But he remembers catching Castiel’s eyes from across the lecture hall that first day in English, he remembers the rainy afternoon in the library. 

He remembers everything.

But most of all, at that moment, he remembers timid fingers stretching him open for the first time. 

\---

The noise that Castiel made when he slowly pressed inside of Dean was fantastic in every way. Dean could tell from the noise alone that Cas was utterly overwhelmed by what he was experiencing. He couldn’t blame his boyfriend, because he was in a very similar predicament himself. 

It was good. _So good._ “More, Cas,” he groaned, fingers digging into the sheets beneath him. 

Castiel remained still, breathing unevenly and clenching at the pale skin of Dean’s hips.

“It’s okay, Cas. I got you.”

Castiel calmed somewhat at that. He began thrusting in slow, shallow movements. It took a bit of effort, but finally he gasped, “I don’t want to come yet. So tight, Dean. Mmm, I just—”

With a mischievous smirk, Dean shifted back and squeezed tight around Castiel’s cock. When Cas groaned, he knew the movement had worked.

“Stop that,” Castiel huffed. An open palm landed flat against one of Dean’s asscheeks in a slap. “Behave.”

His boyfriend had probably meant for the act to be something teasing and in the moment. Instead, the slap sent shockwaves straight to Dean’s cock. “Fuck.” He reached down to wrap his hand around his swollen need. “Me behave? You behave.”

\---

“Dean?”

“Huh?” Benny’s voice snaps Dean back to the present, kneeling on the floor between Benny’s legs. 

“You okay down there, darlin’?” The older man sounds concerned.

Why does Benny sound concerned?

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” Dean gives his head a small shake, as if trying to shake whatever it is that suddenly has a vice-like grip over his entire body. “Just tried too much too fast, is all. It’s alright, I like how you fill me up.” Dean ignores how rehearsed it all feels.

Dean ducks his head down low again, and licks up the length of Benny’s cock before sinking his mouth down. He doesn’t try to go all the way again. He does, however, find himself suddenly fighting an urge that shouldn’t happen during sex.

He’s going to be sick.

He bobs his head again once, and then he has to pull off. As shitty as he feels for acting like a spaz he knows vomiting on someone’s dick would be a thousand and one times worse. He jets to the bathroom, having only enough mind to shoot, “I’m—I’m sorry—” in the general direction of the living room.

He goes from being on his knees in the living room to being on his knees in front of the toilet. The seat’s already up and he hangs his head over the bowl, and coughs, and hacks, and coughs some more. Nothing comes up—not surprising since he hasn’t eaten for most of a day— but his body thinks it knows what it’s doing and won’t let him stop heaving. He spits into the bowl a few times, his stomach having offered up nothing else to expel. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he sits up and slumps back against the side of the bathtub. 

Benny’s standing in the doorway, arms folded. There’s a frown on his face but he doesn’t seem angry.

“Fuck.” Dean rubs one hand over his face, a familiar gesture that has the added bonus of buying him a few seconds of not having to look Benny in the eyes. “Well, this is embarrassing.”

“Why, because I taste so bad you just about lost your lunch on me—”

“—Shit, no! Benny, you’re fine—” Dean tries to interject but Benny keeps talking over him.

“... Or because you haven’t been entirely honest about your current situation.” Benny points his gaze to the two toothbrushes sitting the cup beside the sink. “You don’t live here alone, do you?”

“Fuck. Benny, it’s—”

“What, complicated? Yeah, I can see that. Look, Dean, whatever you get up to, whoever’s bed you’re warming when you’re not in mine ain’t none of my business. But you obviously don’t want this, not now.”

Dean says nothing, thoughts swirling dark clouds in his head.

“You gon’ be okay if I take off?”

“I—Yeah. Yeah. I’m fine.” Dean pushes himself to his feet, ignoring the dizzy feeling threatening to pull him down again.

The skepticism is clearly painted all over Benny’s face. “If you say so.” He turns to leave and Dean follows him to the front door, watching in silence as he puts his boots and jacket back on. “You take care of yourself, Dean.”

Dean doesn’t know what to do after the door clicks closed. He goes back to the bathroom and turns on the tap splashing cold water on his face. He takes a deep breath, and wipes his face on a towel that’s probably clean. He looks around the bathroom.

There are two toothbrushes next to the sink.


	10. Chapter 10

On Monday morning Dean calls in sick to work. After having the entire previous week off for his intended vacation with Cas he knows it’s got to look bad. He’s not even sure if he cares about the possibility of getting fired, which is more than a little ironic considering all the effort he put into keeping his job hidden from Cas. 

When lunch time hits he’s still laying in bed, curled up on Castiel’s side, snuggling a pillow that smells just like his boyfriend. He’s drifting somewhere between being lovesick and hating himself, and he’s not planning on doing a damn thing about it. 

A door opens and closes at the front of the apartment and he turns on instinct. _Could be a burglar_ , he thinks. Dean knows he must be crazy because the thought of it being someone there to murder him is much more enticing than the idea of Cas being back. He sits up, feeling greasy and unkempt. As he well should since it’s been at least two days since he showered and shaved. 

Cas doesn’t walk into the bedroom, so Dean forces himself up and _maybe_ puts off the confrontation, but really he needs a shower before he has whatever argument is coming to him.

After a quick shower he stands in front of the bathroom mirror and stares at his reflection. It’s odd to see the beginning of a beard, but if he takes the time to shave, then he can’t keep lying to himself about avoiding the fight. Besides that, it’s kind of nice to look _different_ , to not be the perfect college student boyfriend that Castiel thought he’d had.

He’s finishing up brushing his teeth when something else catches his eye in the mirror. _Oh shit_. He spits out toothpaste and saliva and tosses his brush into the holder before leaning forward and tilting his head. “Shit,” he curses aloud this time, because he wasn’t imagining things before and there is a _gigantic fucking hickey_ on his neck. It may be a couple days faded, but there’s no mistaking what it is, or how deep a kiss must have left it there.

As he contemplates whether or not he can—or should—hide it, there’s a knock on the bathroom door. 

“Dean? Are you almost done in there? I… I was hoping we could talk.”

Dean stares into his own green eyes and decides that he’s tired of hiding his mistakes. He’s already facing what will probably be the end of his relationship, so what’s the point of continuing to lie? At least if he’s honest with himself and Castiel, maybe a shred of his own dignity, and humanity, will be left when Cas walks away. 

It hurts, but it’s unavoidable. And really, it’s his own damn fault for being so damned reckless. Shutting off the water at the sink, he takes a deep breath before turning around and facing the door. _Here goes nothing._

When he steps out of the bathroom, the hallway is empty. He looks across to the open doorway of the bedroom and sees Castiel sitting silently on the edge of the bed, staring at his shoes.

The prim and proper Castiel that he always expects to see is not the one sitting before him. Instead, Cas looks like he has the weight of the world on his slumped shoulders and his clothes are haphazard at best. 

Dean steps forward, but doesn’t dare go past the threshold of the bedroom.

When Castiel speaks, his voice is haunted and broken. “Do you remember our first time together, in the library?” The question comes off as rhetorical, so Dean doesn’t bother to answer. Castiel continues, obviously not bothered by a lack of response. “You were everything I knew I wasn’t supposed to have. Fearless and wild with a ‘can’t tell me anything’ attitude. I was hooked immediately. I was enamored with the fact that dating you was the most rebellious thing I could do.” 

“Ouch,” Dean whispers, feeling more than a little bit used. 

Still yet to look up from the floor, Castiel continues as if he didn’t hear Dean speak at all. “I went up to the cabin, when I left here. Had every intention of clearing my head and figuring out what the next step was—but all I could think about was you. And _us_. How we were supposed to be there together, making love on every surface and just… enjoying the peace and quiet. And each other.”

The sheer sadness and regret in Cas’ voice weighs Dean down. He slumps against the doorframe and feels a heavy ache in his heart. “I’m sorry, Cas. I tried so hard to be everything you deserved, and I failed so horribly.”

“Dean.” Castiel finally looks up, eyes glistening with unshed emotion. “You don’t get it. I fell in love with that rebel in the stacks, _not_ the perfect college student. I hate that you lied to me—that you felt like you had to at all—but I forgive you. I just want to move on from this and find the path back to the way things were before.”

Dean moves across the floor in an instant, and wraps his arms around Castiel, pulling him to his feet. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for lying.” 

There’s no hesitation, not even one heartbeat’s worth of time before Castiel has his arms around Dean too and his face buried against his neck. It all feels so practiced, and so right. Dean’s muscle memory takes over before his brain can tell him to slow down. Castiel’s breath is hot against his skin and it sends a shiver straight down his spin. His body melts into Cas’, relishing in the warmth and pressure of the other man’s body against his. 

But this can’t go on. Not yet. 

“Cas,” Dean starts, but Castiel is starting to get handsy and is not paying much attention. “Cas, before we—there’s something, there’s something I gotta tell ya.”

Castiel finally relents, giving Dean’s ass a playful squeeze before pulling back. “Of course, Dean, what—what’s that?” His eyes narrow as they very unmistakably focus on a spot at the base of Dean’s neck. “Dean,” Castiel’s voice is low and its tone chills Dean head to toe, “is that a _hickey_?”

Irrationally, Dean finds himself idly thinking that if he had ridiculous hair like Sam then errant hickeys would be a lot easier to hide. At least until he was ready. “Look, Cas, I wanted to tell you—”

“Tell me what, that I only need to be gone for less than a week for you to start fucking around?”

“No Cas, that I fucked around months ago!” Dean’s face feels hot and his hands hurt.

Castiel pulls his hands away as if Dean’s skin is on fire and he’s only just begun to feel the burn. “What, I don’t—”

“I’m, I’m _sorry_ , Cas. I don’t, I can’t—” He lets the silence hang there between them because he doesn’t know what else to do. 

“You cheated on me.” When Castiel breaks the silence he’s almost whispering but the sound of it thunders through the room. “You _cheated_ on me?”

“It—it was just once, Cas. I didn’t—”

“Once. _Once?_ ” Castiel’s face darkens. “You really are good at lying, aren’t you?”

Dean opens his mouth to speak but Cas doesn't let him get in more than a breath.

“There’s no way _that_ ,” he casts an accusatory pointed look at Dean’s neck, “happened ‘months ago.’”

“Hey, you were _gone_ , and I didn’t know if you were coming back.”

“So you fucked someone else?”

“No! I didn’t. I couldn’t go through with it. I made him leave. But it was after this had already happened.” He tilts his head, exposing Benny’s mark once more.

“But you just said—”

“For fuck’s sake, Cas. I had sex with Benny in January, after I quit school, and I’ve been regretting it ever since. I didn’t even talk to him until after you were already gone, and I just told you, _nothing happened_.”

“Except you let him get close enough to suck on your neck.”

“Cas, I—”

“You fucked Benny? Benny, your ex? That creep?” Dean tries to interject but Castiel doesn’t let him. “No, Dean. I’m done. I’m done with the lies.”

“But Cas,” Dean steps closer to him, hand outstretched. “I’m not lying anymore. Never again.”

Castiel steps back, just out of reach. “Michael was right about you,” he says.

Dean scoffs. “You know, I’m really glad I only had to deal with that asshole once.”

“And why do you think that is, Dean? In the _year_ that we’ve been together?” Castiel pronounces each word carefully, like he’s talking to a small, somewhat slow child. “Do you know how much shit he gave me after that day in my dorm? Do you see any other college students who eat steak three times a week?”

“If you’re trying to say something Cas, just fucking say it.”

“Michael was going to cut me off if I didn’t break up with you, so I told him that I did. Right after your birthday.”

The admission hits Dean like a slap to his face. “That’s rich, Cas. That’s real fucking rich. You make me feel like utter shit for not telling you about school and this entire time I’m some dirty fucking secret you’re keeping from your brother?”

“Well at least I don’t need to lie to him any more.”

“Cas—” Dean takes a deep breath, clenching and unclenching his hands. “Fine. You want to give up? Then give up. You’re right—you don’t have to lie to Michael anymore. Goodbye, Castiel.” He doesn’t even bother packing a bag. He grabs his wallet and keychain, slips on his boots and jacket, and is gone. He pretends he doesn’t hear, “Goodbye, Dean,” after he closes the door behind him.

\---

In the weeks that follow, Dean doesn’t lose his job. The combination of throwing himself into his work and not needing to leave early for his shifts result in him being ultimately more productive, and more reliable. By the end of his first six months at the garage he gets a raise. He’s even put in charge of showing new hires the ropes.

Dean erases Benny’s number from his phone and stops going to the bar he knows Benny frequents.

It hurts, but he talks to Castiel a week after their fight. He has to. It’s cordial, but they manage to decide that it’s best if Dean picks his things up when Cas is scheduled to be out. So he leaves the garage early on a Friday afternoon, bags up his clothes, DVDs, and few personal items, and moves in with Charlie.

Living with Charlie is great. She reminds him of Sam sometimes—nerdy, and more prone to hugging than Dean is generally into, but a hell of a lot of fun. They work well together. She never gives him shit for leaving socks on the floor and he doesn’t complain about the revolving door of women she has going on. (“Seriously Charlie, it’s a good thing you can’t get anyone pregnant.”)

Both Sam and Jess manage to graduate on time, and attend their graduation ceremony. Dean makes sure to be on hand in case anyone decides to be a smartass about the pretty blonde senior with a six-month baby bump under her graduation gown. But that only happens once. Sam ends up getting a full scholarship for one of the colleges he’s chosen, but decides to defer attendance for at least a year. It isn’t ideal, but it’s what he decides is best for him and Jess, and the baby. He gets a job right after graduation and saves every penny he can.

Dean would be lying if he said he didn’t miss Cas. If he didn’t think about him when his work on a car gets a little too easy, too mindless. And he isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to go to a library again without feeling achingly sad, right at the bottom of his ribcage. 

But he moves forward. For the first time in months Dean feels like he can breathe. He’s lonely, sure. Although he says nothing about that to friends and family, he can’t deny it to himself. But even in his darkest times, and on the loneliest of nights he has to admit: the pressure is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to our loyal readers and jacket toting groupies. 
> 
> *goes into witness protection program*


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys didn't _really_ think we were that evil, did you? ;) 
> 
> But seriously: thanks to all of our readers, and please enjoy this beautifully long epilogue!

_**Five Years Later…** _

Sometimes Dean imagines life as a long stretch of asphalt disappearing into the horizon. A road laid out with various turn-offs and exits that will take him to a million different outcomes. 

The end of his relationship with Castiel had been like a giant roadblock—a forced end to a memorable journey. At first the path leading away from Cas was a rocky, unpaved mess, but things eventually evened out and after five years, Dean has finally reached the point where he is happy. 

“Lizzy, my sweet, how do you sleep through this ruckus?” He glances down at the small patch of soft brown curls laying against his chest. Elizabeth Winchester, in all of her two-month-old glory, is sound asleep and barely visible in the soft fabric of the baby wrap that is keeping her in place against his body. She’s so tiny that her weight barely registers as a nuisance thanks to the wrap. And though he hated the sight of the thing at first, he’s now come to love the convenience of having his hands free while still holding Lizzy.

A stranger bumps into his arm and he looks up, realizing belatedly how distracted he had gotten. Lizzy could do that to a person. 

“Right. Farmer’s Market.” He grimaces at even the idea of walking through such a place, but Sam had begged and pleaded. _‘You know how Jess is about feeding the kids organic, Dean.’_

The whole fad of organic produce is a bunch of bullshit in his mind, but considering he quite enjoys living in the basement apartment of Sam and Jess’ house, he likes to keep his sister-in-law happy. He’s even got one of those cloth grocery bags in his right hand, ready to hold all of his purchases, as he begins walking through the booths of the large Saturday Market. 

Five booths in, his bag is nearly full. While he’s bent over a selection of jerky samples and trying to decide which he likes best, he hears his name.

The voice is a blast from the not-so-distant past. It even takes him a moment to place it but when he does, his back stiffens. He wants to look, but is afraid of what he might find when he lifts his head. 

“Dean?” the voice asks again, this time closer and holding more than a hint of curiosity.

Slowly, Dean straightens out and looks to his left. There, standing five feet away, is Castiel Novak. His first love. He looks spectacular in dark jeans and a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He’s casual and handsome with an air of importance and class and suddenly Dean can’t remember how to breathe.

“It _is_ you.” Familiar blue eyes light up with delight as Castiel smiles. “I wasn’t sure… I thought you still lived in Lawrence. What are you doing in the city?”

The question is so casual, like small talk between two acquaintances, that it throws Dean for a loop. He looks away from Castiel, eyes scanning the crowd around them as he tries to remember how to speak. Images of their time together—the happy times, not the destructive, apocalyptic ones—flash through his head. 

It takes him way too long to reply, but finally he finds the words. “Been back a few months now. Wanted to be closer to Sam and Jess.”

“Right. I heard about their wedding, and newest arrival.” Castiel continues to smile as he motions to Lizzy. “Is this their youngest? I bet you make an awesome uncle.”

Dean looks down, raising his free hand up to lay on Lizzy’s back. The touch doesn’t phase her at all. She’s swaddled up so tight that nothing is going to wake her until she’s ready. She sleeps just like her father. “Actually no,” he finally answers.

The confusion on Castiel’s face is immediate. “No, you don’t make a good uncle?”

“Oh, I’m an amazing uncle.” Dean grins and looks up. He has no idea how his next words will affect Cas, but it’s been five years and Dean’s tired of censoring himself. He owes that much to both of them. “But this isn’t Sam and Jess’ baby. This is Elizabeth, my daughter.”

“Oh… _oh!_ ” The confusion is met with equal parts shock and hurt. Anyone other than Dean probably wouldn’t notice, but even after five years he can still read that face like a book. With age comes the ability to handle difficult news, though, and Castiel only takes a moment before he’s back to normal with that smile—even if it seems a little forced. “Congratulations. I’m happy for you.”

Dean catches the slight movement Castiel makes, trying to get a better view of bundle wrapped against Dean’s chest, and he turns to the side automatically to allow Cas to see. “She’s only two months, so sleeping is an art form at this point.”

“She’s beautiful, Dean.” Cas’ head tilts and his hand raises, a tentative finger reaching out to brush softly over Lizzy’s clenched fist. They’re both quiet for a moment, standing in the constant bustle of the farmer’s market, before Castiel suddenly stirs out of his reverie and steps back. “It was good to see you again. I’m glad life is treating you well.”

“Yeah—thanks.” He ducks his head to place a kiss on soft baby curls, trying to wipe away the memories of kissing Castiel’s lips.

“Goodbye, Dean.”

And just like that Dean flashes back to the last time Castiel told him goodbye. The ten car pile-up and resulting roadblock that was the end of their relationship. Cas turns to walk away and Dean remembers all of the pain he’s suffered through in the five years since that last goodbye. All the regret, all the loss.

He’s not ready to feel it again, so he speaks up without thinking. One more impulsive move. “There’s a coffee shop over on the corner. You want to grab a cup? Maybe… catch up properly?”

Castiel stops, frozen for a moment before he turns back and nods. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

\---

_Dean has a baby._ Dean has a _baby._ _Dean_ has a _baby_.

The words repeat in Castiel’s mind over and over and he still can’t believe them. As he walks next to Dean towards the coffee shop he can’t keep himself from glancing over every few steps and staring at the baby bundled against Dean’s chest.

There isn’t a ring on the left hand holding a bag of groceries, and Castiel is fairly certain that he would have heard rumors about Dean getting married. But there’s a two-month-old baby and that just _screams_ committed relationship.

“And I’ll have a cappuccino, same bill,” Castiel tells the barista after Dean orders an americano and a lemon-raspberry tart. 

“Uh, thanks,” Dean says, as he takes his tart to a table next to a window to wait for the rest of his order. He pulls his chair back from the table a little before sitting down, making sure he doesn’t bump his daughter.

_His daughter._

Castiel brings both their drinks over a minute later. And takes a seat.

“Hey, thanks for buying,” Dean says.

“It’s nothing.” Castiel chances a smile at those green eyes before looking back into his foam. “Thanks for asking me here.”

“I was lucky to run into you.”

“That looks good,” Castiel says, pointing to the pastry in front of Dean.

“They’re kind of amazing, yeah. I mean, it’s like a whole tiny pie.”

_Some things never change._ Castiel smiles into his coffee before he clears his throat. “I shouldn’t stay too long, and I’m sure you have to get the little one back to her mother.”

Dean laughs, cradling the baby’s head through the sling as he does so. “You never were that subtle, Cas. No, Lizzy’s mom isn’t in the picture. It’s just me and her.”

“Oh,” he manages, feeling a bit embarrassed and afraid to look back up. It’s been five years and Dean still manages to make his heart race.”I’m sorry. That must… be difficult.”

Dean shrugs. “It’s not easy, but… so far, so good.” 

“I suppose that’s why you moved here—to be closer to Sam?”

Castiel finally looks up and watches closely as Dean sips as his drink. Every movement is practiced and careful, always aware of the baby’s presence even though she hasn’t made a peep since Castiel first saw her. 

He decides that watching Dean with a baby— _his_ baby—is beautiful beyond compare. The stuff of photographs that you see in fancy art galleries. His hand itches to pull out his phone and take a picture for himself that he can savor later, when the coffee taste and the smell of _Dean_ has disappeared.

Dean leaves Castiel’s question hanging in the air between them, and the silence forces his brain into overdrive. 

The person he is, sitting there across from Dean, is night and day to the person he was when Dean walked out of their apartment. Walked out of his life. The first day he had raged, thrown everything that wasn’t nailed down against the walls. Dean had _cheated_. Dean had _left._ How could he do such a thing when they had been so in love?

Blaming Dean had lasted for three days. On the fourth morning, when Castiel was stepping off the bus after completing his last class of the day, Michael called. After pleasantries and the usual weekly catch-up, Michael inquired about Castiel’s mood. Without even thinking, the truth came out and he told his older brother about lying, continuing to date Dean for a year, and how they had been living together. Michael listened, not saying a single word, as Castiel’s voice got soft and he finished with, _“It’s over now, though. You were right… Dean ended up hurting me. Despite how perfect he seemed.” ___

___“Oh, Castiel.”_ His brother had taken a deep breath, and the next words he spoke were the hammer that knocked down the wall in Castiel’s mind. _“People like Dean Winchester will never fit into the world that we live in. I asked you to break up with him, not because I feared for your heart, but because I feared for your reputation. For your future. What would people say, Castiel, if you married the son of a town drunk? Dean isn’t like us. You can put a bow on a pig, but it won’t cover the smell of shit.”__ _

__“Cas?”_ _

__He startles a little at the sound of Dean saying his name. Brought back from the memory, he realizes that his hand is clutching the mug of coffee just a little too tight, his breathing slightly laboured. Thinking about Michael tends to do that to him. “Yeah. Sorry. I was just…” It would be easy to give an excuse, to write off his memory lapse and continue to make forced small talk, but he can’t do it. It’s been _five years_ and he’s not going to wait another five for another chance to make things right._ _

__“Dean, I—I, um—” His resolution doesn’t make the words happen easily, though. It takes several more stuttered words before he finally manages to say what he wants. “I was just thinking about the week after you left.” Dean looks more than a little worried, but Castiel doesn’t stop, doesn’t give his own brain a chance to chicken out. “I told Michael the truth that week. Admitted to lying and told him about how you and I had stayed together all along.”_ _

__“I’m guessing that didn’t go over well,” Dean offers._ _

__Castiel shakes his head, tapping nervous fingers against the large ceramic mug. “That’s an understatement. But probably not in the way you’re expecting. Instead of being angry, he gave me a very thorough ‘I told you so’ speech.” He laughs, but it lacks humor. “He said you weren’t good enough for the social environment that the Novak’s are used to. That Dean Winchester would always be a small town mechanic from Kansas.”_ _

__“Ouch.”_ _

__There’s genuine hurt on Dean’s face. He lacks the mask that he wore when they were together, the act put on to prove he could be everything Castiel deserved. It seems that, like Castiel, Dean has grown up and accepted who he is. He can’t stop himself from reaching over and laying a hand on top of Dean’s, pulling the other man’s attention away from the hurt. When Dean is staring at him once more, Castiel smirks. “I hung up on him. I hung up on Michael, and I haven’t spoken to him since. When he was telling me about how you would never fit into ‘my world’, I was remembering every time you had said the same thing. It dawned on me then, that you had put yourself through _so much_ just to be that person that fit in my world. That when you lied about dropping out of school, you thought I’d be ashamed of you for working instead of pursuing a degree.”_ _

__He pauses, his fingers tracing along the top of Dean’s hand. The memory of those fingers touching him… Castiel shakes it off, pulls his hand back and tries to concentrate, to finish saying what he has to say. “I’m not saying that you weren’t wrong for lying, or wrong for cheating, because you were—and you really hurt me. What I’m saying, Dean, is that I was also wrong. I wanted to have my cake and eat it too. I wanted to prove to my brother that he didn’t know what he was talking about, that the small town boy I was in love with could also be the high society partner my family demanded. You didn’t deserve that kind of pressure. No one does.”_ _

__With all of his cards laid out on the table, the response is nothing but silence. Castiel has finished his drink by the time Dean finally speaks up._ _

__“You know,” Dean laughs. “I hate to say this, but Michael was right. That life wasn’t the life for me. One of my favorite songs on the radio talks about how ‘I’m glad I’m not the man I almost was’ and that’s my life to a T. It hasn’t been easy—not one bit—and being a working class single dad isn’t the path I would have chosen, but I have never been this happy. Ever.”_ _

__Castiel is taken aback by how happy those words make him. He smiles, looking from Dean to the baby on his chest and feels his heart ache with joy. “Good. I’m glad. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy. I’m sorry that I was too young and self-centered to realize you weren’t, back then.”_ _

__“I forgive you, by the way,” Dean says. “I still shouldn’t have fucked around on you. Nothing makes that right.”_ _

__“Thank you, Dean.”_ _

__“Is that code for ‘I still haven’t forgiven you’?”_ _

__Castiel considers, trying to organise his thoughts the best he can. “No. It hurt like hell.” _It still does, sometimes._ “But I’m starting to get the impression that we’re both different people now.”_ _

__Dean laughs again, using a finger to point between himself and Castiel. “We sucked at communication, you know that?”_ _

__Without hesitation, Castiel joins in on the laughter, relieved that the mood has lightened again. “Truer words have never been spoken. We were the absolute worst.” He lifts his cup, pouring some of the dregs into his mouth. “The sex was good, though.”_ _

__The stirring movement of Dean’s laughter finally rouses Lizzy. He glances down as the baby starts to whimper, and a frown crosses his face. “Shh, sweets, it’s okay.” Dean tilts his arm and checks his watch, before looking up at Castiel. “It’s just about time for her next bottle, and I didn’t bring it with me.”_ _

__“Oh.” The disappointment hits him in an instant. The thought of watching Dean walk away from him again hurts like nobody’s business._ _

__“Say…” Dean is already standing, carefully maneuvering with the baby while reaching down to pick up his bag from the farmer’s market. When everything is collected, he meets Castiel’s gaze. “You want to follow me home? We only live about five blocks from here. I have steaks set out for dinner and—I, uh—” He stops, ducking his gaze. “I’m not ready to say goodbye again.”_ _

__The disappointment leaves as fast as it arrived. He stands as well and nods his head. “Yes, I’d like that.”_ _

__The walk is filled with easy conversation about their mutual friends from school and anecdotes about Dean’s time as Charlie’s roommate, and where she is now. As they turn the corner onto the street where Dean lives, the topic switches easily enough to how Sam and Jess are doing._ _

__“Pretty impressive that Sam owns a house at what, twenty-two?” Castiel says as Dean unlocks the door to his suite._ _

__“What can I say, when Sammy decides to do something he does it.” The look of pride on Dean’s face is unmistakable. “Kid was always better with money than me, too.”_ _

__Castiel follows Dean though the door, kicking off his shoes as he does. “This is nice, Dean.” And it is. The space is small, but well-organised without feeling sterile. The living room couch looks comfortable as hell._ _

__“Thanks. I can tell you from experience, though, that it won’t be for too long. Not when this little peanut is up and running.” Dean places his bag from the farmer’s market on a kitchen counter and heads towards a carpeted staircase leading up. “You make yourself comfortable,” he nods towards the plush-looking couch Cas had already noticed. “I’m gonna run this little bean upstairs. Because sometimes she’s good for hours and sometimes she’s really not.”_ _

__“Oh Dean, I don’t want to disturb her schedule or anything—”_ _

__Dean shuts him up with a wave. “It’s fine. They pretty much just sleep at this age, and Auntie Jess is home, anyway. She can have a turn now and I’ll take the rest of the gang later. There’s juice and stuff in the fridge. You help yourself.” He winks and disappears upstairs._ _

__And just like that Castiel’s alone. But it’s so, so different than the last time Dean left the room. He takes a deep breath and a smile fills his whole being. It’s comfortably warm in the house so he takes his jacket off and hangs it on the hook next to the door. There’s three empty hooks next to the leather jacket that Dean still always wears._ _

__He settles himself on the couch, and he was right. It is sinfully comfy._ _

__Dean takes longer than expected, and when he finally descends the stairs, his expression is apologetic. “Sorry. To keep from being interrupted later, I had to tell Jess that I had company and that girl asks a million questions that she demands answers to.”_ _

__Waving it off, Castiel laughs. “It’s fine. I can only imagine. Did you tell her who you have down here?”_ _

__“Oh no.” He shakes his head and moves over the small kitchen area. “If I had, I would still be up there giving her a detailed description of everything that has happened since I ran into you.” Opening the fridge, he stares inside for a moment before looking at Castiel over his shoulder. “You want a beer?”_ _

__Castiel is delighted that a beer might mean staying for longer, but he tells his brain to shut up. _Play it cool._ “If you’re having one.”_ _

__Dean pops the tops off two beers and carries them to the couch. With a smile he passes one off to Castiel, before collapsing onto the cushion next to where he sits. “Just like old times.” He points the neck of his bottle towards Castiel’s. “Cheers.”_ _

__“Cheers.” He clinks his bottle against Dean’s. “To old times… and to new?” He takes a drink._ _

__“To new times being better than the old.” Dean winks before taking a drink from his own bottle._ _

__That gives Castiel pause to think. He fills the space by taking a second sip. Could Dean possibly be implying what Castiel thinks he is? Castiel steels himself. He’s not a college kid anymore. He shifts a little closer to Dean, just enough to be in his personal space. “Do you mean that?” He looks at Dean intently._ _

__Green eyes suddenly find the beer bottle in his hand very interesting. Dean doesn’t answer right away, and when he finally speaks, it’s not really an answer at all. “You know, a lot of my life, as it is now, revolves around that little girl sleeping upstairs.” He picks nervously at the label of his bottle. “So I’d like to tell you, Cas, that I do mean that, but Lizzy and I are kind of a buy one get one free deal.” His eyes meet Castiel’s again._ _

__If Castiel is honest with himself then he has to admit that he never stopped loving Dean. He hated him for a while. He was furious, he was hurt, he was devastated. But he always wanted him. But wanting someone doesn’t equal trusting them. Not after so much pain. But seeing the man before him—so grown up in comparison to the boy from Castiel's past—his thoughts are quickly changing. “And I would never dream of changing that, Dean. Not that I could, of course. But... ”_ _

__“But... ?”_ _

__“But what if I’m okay with the package deal?”_ _

__Dean waits, drawing out his next move until Castiel’s stomach is a circus act gone wild. When a smile slowly lights his face, Castiel finally feels like he can breath again. Dean lays his hand in the small amount of space between them. “I don’t know that a fresh start can ever be in the cards for us, Cas. We went through a lot of shit.”_ _

__“We did. And neither of us were entirely innocent of that,” he concedes. “But I’m not proposing a clean slate. We can’t change the past, so why try?”_ _

__“Splitting up with Lizzy’s mom—when she took off—it was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do. But I’m so happy things are the way they are. I wouldn’t change a single thing. She’s only been here two months and I’m so in love with her.”_ _

__“I can see that, Dean. And I can see why.”_ _

__Dean leans forward and closes the space between them. When his lips touch Castiel’s it’s soft, almost cautious. Castiel presses back against the kiss and he doesn’t care if it seems too eager. It’s good, everything that his memory swore it would be, and when it deepens slowly, Dean’s lips parting just so, Castiel feels his heart race._ _

__But he only lets it go so far before he’s pulling away. His hand reaches up, landing on Dean’s shoulder and brushing down his arm. “I want to do this right, Dean. Take things one step at a time. I know the feelings are still there, but it _has_ been five years.” He leans forward, placing one more chaste kiss on Dean’s lips. “There’s work to be done… but I think I’m up to the challenge. If you are.”_ _

__“I think I can get behind that, yeah.” A grin spreads out over Dean’s face and he sits back. “We can start with dinner? I promised you steaks, and I think I have some potatoes laying around here.”_ _

__“Potatoes are good.”_ _

__“Yeah?”_ _

__“Yeah.” The smiles between them are warm and genuine._ _

__“Good.” Dean blushes a little, but catches himself. “God, look at me acting like a teenager.” He takes another pull from his beer. “Why don’t I get you started on those potatoes and I’ll scrounge up some steak seasoning—” A baby’s cry cuts him off. He sighs. “There she is.” Dean doesn’t move, but his body’s tense and his eyes are glued to the general area of the ceiling where the sound is coming from._ _

__“Go ahead.”_ _

__“No, it’s fine. Jess’ll get her—”_ _

__“Dean.” Castiel raises one eyebrow, shooting him the most affectionate but chastising look that he can. “Go to your baby.”_ _

__“Yeah, okay, I’ll do that.” Dean sounds almost as if he’s giving himself a pep talk. He may be a good dad, but he’s still a new dad. “You okay to start peeling the potatoes? I won’t be long.”_ _

__“Take as long as you need, but do one thing for me.”_ _

__“What’s that?”_ _

__“Bring Lizzy back down with you.”_ _

__The grin that spreads itself across Dean’s face is warm enough to melt a block ice. But the baby’s still crying and Dean hasn’t moved very far._ _

__“Okay. Yeah. I’ll do that. I’ll—we’ll be back soon.”_ _

__Castiel takes a good look around the apartment, remembering their past but also envisioning their future. He smiles back at Dean. “I’ll be here.”_ _

__

__THE END_ _


End file.
